


A Dying Light

by CCeline



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Rage, Reader Insert, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCeline/pseuds/CCeline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, they call it stockholm syndrome when you start to express sympathy towards your kidnapper." It's your last college party ever as your life decides to take a rapid turn. Actually meant to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. you get kidnapped by the winter soldier, who brings you to the hideout of a terror organization called Hydra. You should hate him. You should feel anger. You should be in rage. But what if - against all norms - you start to fall in love with the man who is responsible for your pain?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captured

_`"I am not afraid of an army of lions led by a sheep; I am afraid of an army of sheep led by a lion."` _

Your body feels like a stone. You can't move. You can't talk. You can't breath. Your vision is blurry, you can't see clear. Everything seems surreal, it nearly scares you. You can feel a certain heat, there must be a fire somwhere. It's too hot, you feel uncomfortable, but you can't move away. You stretch out an arm, letting out a painful moan. The ground beneath you is solid and full of rocks. One word is playing on your mind. Ruin. Where are you? What happened? You don't know what happened. You don't know where you are. There's just this burning pain covering your whole body. Your bones crack whenever you make the slightes move. Oh God, it hurts so bad. You want it to end. You want it all to end. Why did this happen? What happened? Where are you? You're so scared. You want to go home. Where is your home? You grab one of the stones near to your body, squeezing it tightly. It hurts. It hurts so bad. What are you supposed to do? What did you do? Something bad happened. You feel it. Something really bad happened. The past events are almost reachable. 

"[Y/N]?" You slightly move your head, just to let out another painful fizzling. But you know this voice. You heard it before. This voice means ... family. This voice is ... home. This voice is ...comfort.  You let out a desperate moaning. As you look up, you see a dark figure approach you. "[Y/N]." This voice matters. You know it, because the moment you heard him saying your name, you felt your body react. You know him. Another groan escapes your lips, as the dark figure of the man you know – his name just doesn't want to seep through – grabs you by your sides, slowely positions you onto his lap. "[Y/N], don't you dare die on me now, I won't forgive you and that, my doll, is a promise." You feel a warm smile placing on your lips. You knew it. You know him. He doesn't want you to go. But you really want it to be over. He doesn't want you to go. He. Who is he? What is his name? You know his name. It's there. You know, it's there. Duck. Chuck. Luck. No. Buck. Bucky. Your smile widens. Yes, that's it. 

"Bucky ..." you whisper breathlessly. "You're here." Even though you don't really know what 'here' means. Your brain feels so fed up. You simply stare into a pair of blue eyes. Bucky's eyes. You love his eyes, but it's getting harder to look at them. Numbness is filling your muscels. It hurts. You feel like fighting against the numbness, but you want the pain to end so badly. "It hurts," you whisper. "Bucky, it hurts."

"I know, doll. Just promise me, you'll hold on a little longer, okay?" He caresses your cheek, while you give him a small nod. You need to hold on. You need to hold on. You're so tired. You want to sleep so badly. You want to close your eyes. "Hey. [Y/N], stay awake!" You startle at the harsh sound of his voice, moaning in pain. This is hard. You can't do this anymore. You're sorry for Bucky. You're sorry, you can't stay any longer. You wanted to be his light. But there's no way you'll be able to hold on any longer. You want peace. You want to lay down your head. You want to be kept from the world outside. World. _`"Older men declare war. But it is the youth that must fight and die."`_ You smile. How horrible. So that's what's happened to your body? War? You don't remember. You can't remember. Maybe you don't want to. Yes, maybe it's better that way. 

"Bucky." Your voice is nothing, but a whisper. The sound is raspy. Low. Dark. 

"Yes, my Love?" 

"What happened?" Your question sounds almost childish. You're like a child, asking out of curiosity. But that is probably, because your brain isn't able to use it's usual capacity. You feel a giggle escape your lips. That sounds so strange. You feel like you lose yourself with every second. Becoming a part of the wind, more and more. And suddenly your giggle is gone and an awful silence closes around you. Your eyes stare into his. Blankly. Tired. Empty. "What happened, Bucky?" you whisper again. "What did we do? What happened?" Your voice fades and the last words you hear, let you drift into a nothingness. Six words. Eighteen letters. 

"I fell in love with you."

 

**NINE MONTHS EARLIER**

You look around in an awful bored manner. This college party is like every other party you were at before. The only difference is, that this will be your last college party. Because you passed your final exams and now are planned to work on a projekt together with a random guy named Dr. Bruce Banner, a scientist of nuclear physics. Well, you're a scientist of particle physics – officially since yesterday. And you have no idea what you're supposed to do, you just know that you'll be working for an organisation named S.H.I.E.L.D. and that it means a lot of secrecy. At least, it is a job. You don't want to hang around at home and rest on your laurels, just like some certain other people intend to do. With that, you mean your best friend Laura and her boyfriend Jake. They both did a pretty good job at doing nothing the past months, even though Prof. Willis made it clear, that the last months in college are the most important ones – and he told you a lot of stuff about keeping up the spirit of science. You guess that's one of the things Laura missed, beeing all caught in her amorousness. You sigh turning around on your chair to take a look through the room. _Well, speaking of the devil_ , you think the moment you see Laura and Jake approach you – or maybe they're just heading for the bar, actually you have no idea. 

"[Y/N], here you are!" Laura says in a singsong that makes it clear, she already drank more than you thought. You just give her a half smile, when she suddenly pulls you into an extremly rough, drunken hug. She places a wet kiss on your cheek. "Me and Jake, we'll leave the party now," she whisperes in your ear while giggling like a crazy. Aha. "Don't be mad at me, okay? I know you don't like it when I'm drunk, but you know I love you." Laura looks at you with a childish pout, seeming like she's waiting for your permission to go and have sex with her boyfriend. You simply look back. Actually you're a little jealous. Laura is the lucky one when it comes to men. You're like the potato walking next to her. It's not like you're ugly. No, you're indeed very beautiful. At least, that's what you think. But somehow guys use to like Laura's sexappeal. And well, you're actually one of the more innocent kind. Doesn't bother you anyway. You're saving it all for someone special. That's something you feel proud of. 

After a short while, you nod at your best friend. "I love you too, Laura. Go and have fun." With a girly squeal, she flings her arms around your neck one more time, before she takes Jake by his hand, ready to lead him out of here. You shoot a last glare at him telling him to watch out for Laura. You know how reckless she can be from time to time. You don't want that something happens to her. But you can imagine, the only bad thing that could happen to her tonight, is that she gets pregnant. But why should you care? Yes, she is your best friend, but you're not her mother – eventhough sometimes it feels a lot like it. Oh, now that you think about it, you should really call your mother. She doesn't even know, that you gratuaded. Wow, you're a good daughter. The last years, your mother did nothing but rake in money for your seminars and you couldn't even call her to say: "Hey mom, you know what? I gratuaded, now I'm a scientist of particle physics." Huh. That'll sound pretty weird. Maybe, you'll call her tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow sounds like a plan. You shake your head, letting your eyes drift through the room full of other students. You saw most of them at least once, but as you stop at one corner of the room ... 

__

"I will keep you from the world outside - I will never let you go -  
I will be the thing you dream about - Come to me and you will know -  
I adored you before I laid my eyes, I laid my eyes on you -  
l'amour toujours, I just can’t take my eyes, can’t take my eyes off you!

The sound of the song echoes into every inch of the room, while you're caught in his eyes. You can't really define the colour though, it's too dark inside here. The pink light shining from the ceiling isn't helping either. But eventhough you can't really define his features, you're still fascinated by his appearance. His short, dark hair perfectly frames his face. A few streaks are covering the sides of his jaw. He's wearing a black butten-down and a dark jeans. You can't believe he's staring at you. You can't believe you're staring back! After minutes of staring, you give yourself a love tap and flick your eyebrows in a serious expression. His face remains stone-like, but you can swear you see his jaw tense. That's the moment you decide to quit the staring contest and finally turn around again. Instantly a blonde, indeed, very attractive bartender greets you with a bright smile. You guess, she's one, who gets a lot of tip for her work.

You're about to ask, where Linda is – the bartender, who kept your company until now – when the blonde suddenly speaks up. "He's been staring at you for quite some time now," she says with a discreet smile. A streak of her blonde hair falls into her face, as she looks down washing off some of the glasses. "But I guess, you already noticed." You just give her a glare, before turning your head over your shoulder to take another peek at the man. He's still looking at you. Okay, he's kind of creepy, eventhough you think he's damn handsome. But ... why is he staring at you like that? This definitiley isn't a good stragedy to flirt with a woman. Besides, you're not good at flirting. You can be so awkward sometimes, the only thing you want, is to rush out the room before 'It' actually started. But this time you don't want to flee. You don't want to go home just now. So you tell yourself to ignore him. You turn around again, putting your finger around your empty glass, which once was a Cosmopolitan. 

You sigh. "Men like what they see. Women like what they hear. That is why men lie and women wear make-up," you simply say, gaining a honest laugh from the blonde bartender. 

"I like that," she says, still laughing. "Who wrote it?"

You shrug your shoulders. "I don't know. I read it on tumblr." Now she laughs even louder. You don't really get, what's so funny about it. You actually mean it. And just because you found that stupid quote on tumblr, doesn't make it less true. But maybe it's all about people always thinking that students, who gratuaded from college, need to recite great authors and not pick their worldly wisdom from a commercial web page. You let out another sigh, using your chance to – again – watch out for that guy. But as your eyes reach the corner, where he was standing, there's noone. Immediately a mix of disappointment and relief fills your heart. Maybe it's better that way. You don't know him and he could be dangerous. At least his presence seemed ... dark. You turn around again, just to see two glasses in front of you. 

The bartender chick smiles at you, taking one of the glasses. "I like you, girl. Let's toast." Your hand reaches out for the other glass, your throat is craving for something to drink, but then you pause for a second, remembering a long conversation with your Mom, when you were sixteen. The rule was: Never lose sight of your drink. Never accept drinks from strangers. You're thinking, slightly inhaling the scent of the light liquid. It's champaign. And it's definitiley not one of the cheap sorts. _Oh come on, she's a women. What could she probably want from you?_ That's enough for you to silence your inner pessimist. You raise the glass a little, cheering with a smile. "Of men and women!" she says and you both take a sip at once. 

_Wow, this is good stuff_ , you think, immediately feeling more light headed. "This is really good. What is it?" you ask and the bartender gives you an answere you can't understand, because the music suddenly gets louder. You just shrug your shoulder, taking another long sip of the bubbly liquid. You can't help but let out a small giggle. This feels weird, really. But it feels weird in a good way. You start to look around again, taking another sip, when you see the bartender walk down the counter to ... him. God. You nearly choke on your drink when you see them both talking. He whispers something into her ear and she gives him an approving nod. Then he says something again, and she says something in return. You take another sip, starting to feel weird in another way. Now it feels almost like someone is starting to shake your brain. You inhale, realizing how heavy your chest suddenly feels. Oh God. This isn't good.

You look at the man, who returns your gaze instantly. That's when your vision starts to get blurry and a nasty headache builds up inside your head. Minutes pass by, in which you put your head into  the palm of your hand, trying to support your numb muscels. You think about leaving. You need to get out of here. But you know, you can't, you're too weak. "Hey, you're okay?" You hear the bartender ask. But her voice sounds different. Sneeky, gleeful. And as you look up with the last of your power, you're about to fall from your barstool. But your back bumps against a firm chest and just seconds later, the man who watched you the whole time, wraps an arm around your waist, slowely guiding you from your place and through the room. You soon realize where he's going to. The backdoor, down the stairs. No.

You want to say something, but you can't. You're too numb. Even your lips feel weak. You're so damn scared. Your Mom was right, you shouldn't take drinks from strangers. But now it's too late. You reach the stairs and as you look down, you feel yourself waver. No. There's no way you can use the stairs. No way. And you won't have to, because right at the moment, you fall to the side, right into the arms of your kidnapper. Now there's nothing but a cut. Darkness.

****

. . .

"Time to wake up, Miss [L/N]." You groan in pain as you open your eyes, looking into the face of an old man. The surroundings still wiggle, it's blurry. Screaming light shines down on you, leading you to press your eyelids together for a short minute. You feel the knocking pain inside your head. As you turn your head to the side, you realize that you're lying on a gurney, in the middle of an almost empty room. As you turn your head further back, you look straight into the direction of your kidnapper. You're more than awake now. Your eyes widen. Panic rushes through your blood and you immediately try to get up. But you can't, you're tied to the gurney. "Miss [L/N], you really should try to calm down." You give a fuck of what the old geezer says and instead try to free yourself, by gliding your arms further up.

You hear a door open. "What is she doing? Make her stop!" There's another voice, you don't recognize. You're close to free a hand, when someone suddenly grabs it, using tape to fix it onto one of the straps that hold you at the gurney. They do the same to your other hand. "I want to talk to her," the same voice says again and you look around to get a peek, but can't get enough free moving space. "Let her sit." You hear someone agree and just a moment later, the upper part of the gurney automatically straightens up. Now you're facing three people. Two unknown faces. The last one is familiar – your kidnapper. You throw a longer glare at him, before someone starts speaking. "Miss [L/N], or shall I call you [Y/N]? If you ask me, I would like to call you by your first name. So [Y/N], do you know why you're here?"

You look at the man with the round, old-looking monocle, while letting out an exhausted breath. _I don't know, maybe because you're a douchebag_ , you think, but shortly realize you weren't just thinking as your mouth closes appreciable. A man in a dirty, white lab coat gasps for air in shock, whereas your kidnapper has a dry smirk on his lips. But his smirk soon vanishes, when Mr. Lab-coat gives him a short handsign. Before you know what's happening, your head already smashes to the side, a burning pain spreads over the left side of your face. You breath out sharply. The guy with the monocle stands himself in front of you, grabbing your chin roughly. His face is close to yours, as he says: "For someone in your position, you're pretty forward. If I would be in your shoes, I would always think twice, before I speak." He releases you again, turning around. "But I must admit, I like your fearless nature – or at least, the way you pretend to be fearless. That is something Hydra needs."

"Hydra?" Your eyes fill with shock and disbelief. You slowely shake your head. "No. No, Hydra is nothing but a propaganda refering to the nazism back in the 1940's. It's not real." Your muscels tense up, whereat the straps around your body make a creaking noise. This is not real. It can't be. Hydra doesn't exist. And even if it would, what could a terror organisation probably want from you? You're just a student, who- You stop your own thoughts the moment you get an idea of what they could want from you. You remember a certain sentence one of your teachers often said, back then in high school – he mostely refered it to Albert Einstein. _Wisdom is a great gift, but unfortunately it's too often used as a weapon_. You remember the day you found a message from S.H.I.E.L.D. in your mailbox. How it was full of conspiratorial informations about a project, they weren't even willing to tell you what it's all about. But they told you, your wisdom in particle physics would be a great benefit. Wisdom. That's what they're after. "This is not real," you whisper.

"Oh it is, [Y/N]. And you're sitting in the center of it all." Mr. Monocle says, almost euphorically. It's almost as if he wants to convince you. "The moment you accepted to join the science division of S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra's very attention was on you. Because, what could be more interesting, than the interests of your opponent?" Again, he takes a few steps towards you. You don't even look up. "You're here to make Hydra a better foe, so consider yourself as hired, Miss [L/N]. Welcome to Hydra." Without further words, he passes by, apperently to leave the room. "Oh doctor? [Y/N]'ll share the room with him, until she proved herself to us. Oh and make sure everything will be prepared for her education. I want to start by tomorrow morning." _Hired? Share the room? Education?_

"Of course, Mr. Strucker," Mr. Lab-coat answeres. 

You can hear how the door opens and again, can't hold back. "You can't keep me here forever. There're people who will come and look for me. I'm not a puppet, I won't do anything for you and your stupid terror swellheads!"

"This is, why I call it education, [Y/N]. Believe me, you'll love it." You press against the straps in a desperate manner to get lose, as you hear the door close again. You make a whiny tone, when you realize the impact of everything. You're kidnapped. You're in the hand of a terror organisation, who wants your knowledge as a weapon. Why you? Why did this happen to you? Why not someone else? There would be Mick – this guy, who visited every seminar that you'd visit -, he was pretty much as smart as you. Same grades, same qualities. So why, of all people, did they choose you? _Because what could be more interesting, than the interests of your  opponent?_ , you remember Strucker's words. Strucker. You never heard of his name. How did he find you? How is all of this even possible?

"Well Miss [L/N], you're done here for today," Mr. Lab-coat says, before he turns his attention to your kidnapper. "She'll stay under your observation. Every stupidity she makes, will automatically be your problem, so you better watch out for her. Now bring Miss [L/N] into your room, she's allowed to rest until tomorrow." The brown haired man – your kidnapper – walks up to you without giving Mr. Lab-coat an answere. But it doesn't seem to bother him. The doctor simply turns around getting to work again. You start to struggle against the straps, as the man reaches you. He doesn't even bother taking off the straps the right way. He just roughly rips them apart, instantly grabbing for your affixed wrists, to pull off the tape. 

"Ouch!" you exclaim loudly, snaping his hand away in a knee-jerk reaction. That's when you see his metal hand. You gulp. "What-" You can't end your sentence, because the man suddenly grabs you by your shoulders, pulling you up. Too fast for your likes, because now you notice, how weak your legs still are. So even if you would've gotten lose ... You have no chance. With much force, the man leads you to the door, which opens up automatically. You don't really get the chance to look around, because your kidnapper is just rushing through. The only thing you really see is, dark shady walls, old rosty lamps, and a lot of metal doors. Prison. This looks so much like prison. And you're in the middle of it all. How are you supposed to survive all this? Will S.H.I.E.L.D. come and get you? You don't even want to think about the answere. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't even know you. They just wanted you for your diploma. 

You nearly stumble over your own feet as you both go round a corner, rushing through the next long hallway. This domicile seems like a damn maze. You would never find the way out. But you tell yourself, you must try to escape. Somehow. You just need time to learn and memorize all the ways.   You take a brief look back, before your kidnapper suddenly stops in front of a door and you accidentally run into his side. He sends a glare at you, that makes your skin shiver in a very displeasing way. But still you decide to return his stern glare, whereat he looks away putting his hand on a little screen, right next to the door. Instantly a flash of green light scans his palm and shortly after, a little beep unlocks the door in front of you. The brown-haired just pushes you inside, whereon you stumble over your own feet, ruggedly landing on your knees. You guess, this is your punishment for staring back so rudely. "No reason to be so rough," you snarl, more to yourself than to him, but he still keeps looking at you. 

The door behind you closes and you get up to look through the room, and maybe to escape that awkward situation, in which you're kneeling on the floor and he just stares at you. And you must admit, you are surprised. Even though it's shady, Mr. No-talking seems to have a rare taste. You would say, it's almost vintage. The stuff – probably his stuff – seems old. Like something from the 1950's, maybe even older. On a desk there's an old radio. You remember that your grandpa possesed one of those. It looks like a simple wooden box with some extras. Then there's an old clock. It kind of reminds you of these strange things therapists use to have in their room. An atomic clock. One thing gets your attention right away – a record player is standing in a corner of the room. _He really is old-fashioned_ , you think staring at the man, who's simply ignoring you right now.

He turned his back on you and now is standing in front of his bed, starting to get rid of all sorts of weapons, which were placed inside his pockets. On top of that, he suddenly takes off his shirt. You instantly feel your cheeks getting bright red and instantly turn away. Instead you head for the second bed, which isn't really a bed. It's more of a camp bed, those they had in the MASH during war. It's temporary. But they definitely awaited you. You give yourself an inner kick and turn around, to sit onto the thin mattress. A relieved breath escapes your lips as you see that the man isn't naked. Indeed, you ask yourself, if he wore that combat gear the whole time – like, under his normal clothes. "Must be pretty hot ...," you murmur out of the blue, you didn't even notice you said it aloud. But as he looks up -right into your eyes -, you feel the need to slap yourself. "Uhm ... I mean the combat gear you're wearing. It must be uncomfortable to wear."

He doesn't answer you and instead sits down on his bed, picking one of the weapons, before he starts to fractionize it. "Guess you're not much of a talker ..." you say, letting out a sigh. "Great."


	2. Resistance

You let out another choked scream, as the electricity runs from your wrists through your whole body. You can't help, but slam your wrists with the electroshock bracelets on them, against the table in front of you. A piercing, screaming pain is the answere to your action and again you tense up, just to bear down a cry. Education. That's what Hydra calls it. Whenever you refuse to do something, whenever you refuse to answere, whenever you refuse to say something – Strucker pulls the trigger and sends an unbearable amount of electroshocks through your body. Everytime one of the shocks ends, you let yourself sink into the chair, trying not to show how exhausted you are. But this time it's different. You can't hold your head up any longer and as you let yourself sink back, your head bumps against the wooden squab. A heavy breath leaves your lips, making it clear that you won't be able to bear another electroshock – without getting unconscious. But you won't say it aloud. You won't bow to Hydra. The heartbeat in your chest clearly echoes in your ears, while you stare at Strucker, who's standing not far from you. He takes a few steps, moving in a circle around you. 

"How long do you intend to go on like this, [Y/N]?" Strucker asks. You don't answere. Your head slowely turns to the side, looking through the dimmed window in the middle of the wall. You can see a few silhouettes behind it, some green and red lights. Probably for all the different instruments that are standing around in this room. But you don't really care about the lights, your tired eyes stare at the one silhouette, you're sure it's him. "Answere me," you hear Strucker say - somwhere at the edge of your thoughts. But you're actually too tired to focus anymore. Your muscels, your bones - actually your whole body – feels like it was fried. You catch a glimse of _his_ eyes, _his_ features, behind the dimmed window. Just as another electroshock rushes through your veins, reaching your bones in a split second. This time you can't hold back and moan loudly. This is going to kill you, if you don't do anything. You have to do something. Even if you don't want to. "I must say, I never saw someone fighting for this long. Do you really want to kill yourself?"

A week. You were holding on for a whole week – but you reached your limit just now. "What do you even want from me?" you ask weary, but still you straighten yourself up a little, trying to get back your voice and put a little pride on your shoulders. You take the documents from the table taking a last look at the formulas that are written on the paper, before you throw it to Strucker's feet. "You can't tell me you brought me here to solve formulas I've already worked on in high school. Anyone who has the slightest idea of how math works, could solve this crap!" Strucker pulls the trigger of the little device in his hand and another shock makes its way through your skin. "I'm not your pupett," you say through gritted teeth, letting your head fall back as the shock overwhelmes you. You press against the belt that is holding you on the chair moaning in pain.

"You still don't get the idea of these proceedings, do you?" He stands himself at the other side of the table looking down on you. "This is not about solving difficult formulas. This is about you and your education. And, let me tell you this, your parents failed bitterly when it comes to a decent education. You Miss [L/N], are just another spoilt brat, whose parents gave too much gratitude and too much tolerance. But this ..." He leans himself over the table. "ends now. You'll learn to obey. If you do, you'll have nothing to fear. But if you disobey, there will be consequences even your family will feel. I know, you're smart enough to know what's the right thing to do." Strucker gets up again and takes a few steps back. He looks at you thoughtfuly. "But I get what you mean. You want more than simple arithmetic problems. And your wish will be granted. This afternoon, you'll start to assist Dr. Sonar in our laboratory." 

"What if I say no?" you ask right away. Your eyes are still focused on the little device Strucker holds in his hand. His thumb is almost stroking it. 

"Oh I think you know the punishment that comes with disobedience. But you're more than welcome to try it out again, Miss [L/N]." His words make you shut up. You're sure, you won't be able to take another shock. It was a big surprise you managed to take two more at all. It's enough for today. Strucker nods in satisfaction. "I guess you start to understand. So maybe there's still hope for you and Hydra, [Y/N]." You don't like his words and you are close to say something stupid again, but manage to keep it behind your tongue. And it seems like you're not the only one, who's surprised to see you this silent. It almost looks like Strucker waits for you to do something stupid, but after a short pause, he turns around to leave for the door. " I'll demand reports of your work from Dr. Sonar, so you better work properly. Have a nice rest of the day, [Y/N]." The entrance door opens and as Strucker leaves, _he_ \- in Strucker's place - enters the room. You furrow your brows. _Winter Soldier_. You remember, they use to call him that way.

You don't move a bit, as the brown-haired moves the table away and opens the belt around your stomach. "Well, hello again," you say with a weak smile on your lips. As always, Mr. No-talking doesn't answer. Actually he talked to you twice. That was, when you touched his record player just yesterday and the moment you asked for the toilett. That is – at least – something. Something ... You get up with another painful noise leaving your throat. Instantly you feel yourself waver, your feet can't hold themselves at one point and just seconds later you're falling to the side – right into his chest. You don't even get the chance to think about how embarassing this whole situation is, you're far too weak. One. Two. Three. For. Five. There are five versions of the winter soldier, as you look up to him. And all of them are looking at you with a stone-like expression. 

He simply grabs you by your shoulder, leading you out of the room. You really have problems keeping up with him, but there is one thing you can't deny; he doesn't let you fall and eventhough his grasp is tight, it doesn't hurt. In your double-viewed world you look up again noticing how he watches you from the corner of his eye. You guess, his mission is not just to lecture you, if you do something wrong, but also to keep you safe – in a strange way. _Wait. Wait. Wait. Am I seriously sympathizing with this guy?_ You shake your head in denial - maybe a little too much. _Bad idea,_ you think the next moment, as you realize how dizzy you are. You look around. You know this hallway, it's not far to your room. There's no way you can break down now. You just need a distraction. _Oh_ "You don't really like talking to me, huh?" you ask, really wanting to start a conversation to chase away the dizziness. But actually it's only getting worse. "Oh God," you whisper. 

Now he really turns his attention to you, with a curious expression on his face. You face him again, with the difference that you barely see him right now, you're far too dizzy. Everything is twisting. "You're spinning," you say breathlessly. "I think ... I'm going to-" That's it. Your feet are not able to hold you any longer and without ending your sentence, your knees give in – and you're falling.

"Oh come on," you hear his voice. These are the last words you hear, before you drift into unconsciosness.

                                             . . .

"Wake up," you hear someone say, while shaking you lightly. For a short, peaceful moment you think, you're at home. You're at your apartment, which you're sharing with Laura and she made coffee to apologize for leaving you alone at the club, just to have sex with her boyfriend. But the moment you think about the club, the bar you were sitting at, the champaign you were drinking – you're immediately drawn back into reality. The peace leaves you, your conscious returns. Again someone shakes you, with more force. "I won't repeat myself again. Wake up." Now you recognize the voice, eventhough you didn't hear it often up to now. You slowely open your heavy eyelids, looking into a pair of blue eyes, placed in an emotionless face. Just a short while, then he turns away. "You have to get up now." 

You give yourself a little time, before you sit up. There is still a nasty, knocking pain inside your head and the world around you doesn't want to stand still yet. You sigh placing a hand on the side of your head, in order to massage your temple. "How long did I sleep?" you ask while swinging your legs out of the bed. Actually you don't really expect an answere, because Mr. No-talking a.k.a the winter soldier never talked to you over the past week. At one point you just decided to talk to yourself. Or you actually decided to talk for the both of you – to protect yourself from growing lonely, or getting crazy. But for some deep reasons, he suddenly turns to you opening his mouth. And you're staring at him like he's a rare animal. Well, in some kind of way he is rare, but he's not an animal. At least, that's what you hope.  

"Long enough," he says. The brown-haired points at the little nighttable next to your bed and you instantly follow his gesture, just to see a plate full of undefinable food. "You should eat something before we leave." You squinche up your face. A feeling of sickness fills your stomach, telling you to disdain lunch for today. Or forever. Because whatever that thing on your plate is, it looks disgusting as hell. And you're not entirely sure, if it isn't still alive. 

You gulp. "Ah no, I'm not hungry." As you turn your gaze away from your plate, your eyes meet his blue ones again. "Thank you though," you quickly add on. _Why are you even thanking him? He freaking kidnapped you!_

"That was no request," he answeres in a low, serious tone. "I gave you an order."

You instantly bite your lower lip, to hold back an overflow of angry words. But it doesn't last long. "And you think I care?" you inquire. You finally get up from your bed to prepare yourself for a possible fight. Eventhough you know that you have not the slightes of a chance. "You didn't even talk to me the past week. And now you suddenly decide to open your mouth, to order me around?" You make a fizzy sound while taking a few steps to the side, near to the bathroom door. "Well, I don't know if you noticed, but I don't really care about obedience. I'll definitiley not behave like a pupett on the strings. And you can do whatever you want, I don't care." Again you bite your lower lip, awaiting an answere or maybe a punishment. But he isn't doing anything, except from turning his attention to his weapons again. 

"Do whatever you want," he says while he starts putting his weapons into the many pockets of his combat gear. You blink a few times. You can't belive he just said that. _Do whatever you want._ This is like the biggest surprise you got today. You walk back to your bed, sitting down again. You don't really want to trust his calmness. Eventhough he's always calm. "I'll bring you to the labor in about ten minutes, you better decide now, if you ..." His eyes focus on the bathroom door. _Oh._

You ignore the awkwardness you feel inside your chest. "They call you winter soldier, right?" you ask, in attempft to change the topic. He doesn't answere again. So you both are playing the old game again. You decide to ignore the fact, that he isn't answering again and instead talk on. "But, I mean, you must have a normal name, right? Your name can't be winter soldier, that would be weird. It's just a pseudonym." He doesn't answere. This is strange. For the first time you've met him, you really think he isn't just too lazy to answere, you think he doesn't know the answere. "Does that mean you have no idea what your name is?" Your voice is getting lower as you watch him stop in his actions. "Did they do the same things to you, they're now doing to me?" You think about something to put it all together. Something that defines it all. He doesn't remember. He's somehow ruthless. He's completely blank. Every motion falls out of your face. "They brainwashed you."

In a splitsecond you see a dagger cutting its way through the air. Its blade misses your cheek by a fraction of an inch. "You talk too much," he says and at the same time you can see a threat in his eyes. If you dare to say something wrong again, he'll probably kill you. No, he'll kill you. No matter what consequences await him after that. You startle, jumping up from your bed as he approaches you with fast steps. But while you seek for the safety of a hole, he just pulls his dagger out of the wall – _and then_ approaches you. "We'll go now." He grabs you by your upper arm – this time more roughly. The old procedure follows. He forces you down the dark hallways of the Hydra hideout, while you try to memorize the new route you're going. But the only thing you ask yourself all the time is; where – in this darn maze – is the exit? All your stamping is useless, if you don't get the chance to see the exit. At least once. You feel like you haven't seen the sun in months. But it's been only a week. 

_I really want to see the sun,_ you think for yourself, still trying not to make a sad face. You want to look strong in the eye of your foes. You keep an eye on Mr. Now-talking. There also are a few questions about him. Did they really brainwash him? What is his real name? Why do you feel like, this is not his real nature? Something about him makes you feel completely weird. And you want to know what it is. 

"You better listen to what Dr. Sonar tells you, if you don't want to end up unconscious again," he suddenly says, as you both reach the darkest hallway you've seen so far in this hideout. Gentle, harmonic piano music breaks the silence. And as you stop in front of the door, he stands still for a while. "He's not as considerate as some others." Wow. Is he – by any chance – telling you, that _he_ is considerate? Because you have a complete different definition of 'beeing considerate'. But you don't ask him and rather return his intense look. You think about something to say – something to answere his last words. At first you think about barking at him, but then you decide to tell him, what you really think.

"I'll do, what I want to do. I won't do things that could be a threat to other people," you say in all honesty. "I'll not let them change me." Of course, he doesn't answere again. He just presses the button on the side of the door, which opens soon after. With his head he nods towards the room, telling you to go inside. You follow his wordless order and watch how the door closes again, as you reach a large table at the middle of the room. Silence follows. The last thing you hear is, how the the lock blocks the door, leaving you without a chance to escape. "Well, so much about finding the exit," you whisper to yourself while starting to circle the table. All kinds of stuff is laying on its surface. Devices you never saw before. A lot of it looks like junk, but still you can't deny that it wakens a certain interest in you. You let a hand glide over one of the devices. It looks familiar to you, but then not really. You take it into your palm, and press the little red button that is placed in the middle of the device. Than you shriek, as a short, low electroshock occurs on your wrists. You watch the little devil in your hand for a while. "Darn it, " you whisper. "But maybe you'll be helpful." Quickly you let the device vanish inside your bra. There's already an idea forming in your head. 

You go furhter around the table and you first stop again, as you see a file one the desk. It's open and on the first page is a big headline: **The Winder Soldier Project**. You look around for short, making sure there's noone watching you. Actually you already wondered why Mr. No-talking left you like this. But you guess, he doesn't care. You trace a finger over the headline, before turning the page. "Oh wow, that's ..." You can't even think about something to say. You just look at the page, that is full of personal informations about Mr. No-talking. a.k.a winter soldier. There's even a picture of him, but he looks much more like a normal guy – noble, in a way. "James Buchanan Barnes. So that's your name, oh and you've been a Sergeant." You read on, stopping at his year of birth. 1917. You again look at the photograph, there is a word written below - you think it's some sort of nickname. _"Bucky"_. But actually that's not what matters right now. "1917, that's impossible," you whisper. But as you start to turn the pages, reading more and more about what they did to him all these years, you start to understand. "How horrible."

You startle, quickly closing the file and taking a few steps back as you hear someone approach the room. The entrance door slides open again and Dr. Sonar steps into the room, looking at you in a strickt manner. "Why are you already here? Where is the winter soldier?"

"Uhm. He just left ... like a few minutes ago," you say, returning the serious gaze the doctor is giving you. He steps further into the room while letting his eyes wander across the large table. He's a strange man. The last week you figured out, that he is somewhat what you would call a _Monk_. Like that guy in this series, who has all this neuroses. That is what Dr. Sonar is like, with the difference that Monk is a friendly guy with neuroses – Dr. Sonar is not nice. You can imagine why Mr. No-talking gave you the advice not to piss the doctor off. _Mr. No-talking,_ you think. Actually, he has a name right now, but you guess it's not a good idea to call him by it. _James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky._ His name almost makes you chuckle. 

"Did you touch anything?" The question of Dr. Sonar drawns you back into the here and now. And his question leaves you lifting an innocent eyebrow – or actually both. 

"No. As I said, he left me like two minutes before you came here. So even if I wanted to touch anything, I wouldn't get the chance to do it." You roll your eyes trying to ignore the fact, that the little device - which is still sticking in your bra – pricks your chest in a nasty way. You look at the doctor, who looks down on the table somehow nervously. Your eyes stop at the Winter Soldier's file, as you follow his gaze. Bucky's file. "What's that?" you ask, playing all curious and unknowing. 

Dr. Sonar bristles with anger. "That is none of your buisness! Now get yourself some gloves and a lab-coat. We need to get to work."

_Seems like he's buying it ..._

                                             . . .

After good four hours of work, the entrance door of the labor slides open again and as you look over your shoulder, you see a man in a black combat gear. But this combat gear is nothing compared to the one the winter soldier's wearing – Bucky is wearing. You don't really know if you can get used to his name. It's strange – you know his real name, but he doesn't. "Dr. Sonar, I'm supposed to escort Miss [L/N] to the day room," the man says. His face is as serious as all the other faces in this darn hideout. "Mr. Strucker wishes her to be around people." You make a grimace at his words while pulling off your gloves. Strucker wants you to be around people. _Is he scared that I could get crazy, or something?_ Maybe. Probably. And, if you're honest, you already feel like you're getting crazy. You didn't see anyone except ... Bucky. And he is kind of, not the big talker. 

"Do whatever makes you happy," Dr. Sonar says, his eyes are still peeping through the glasses of the microscope. "Tomorrow you're going to work longer, Miss [L/N]. And I don't care about sleeping issues or other things, so you better be at full strength." 

_Whatever._ "Sure," you answere, throwing off your lab-coat and instantly walking up to the man. "Good evening, doctor." Dr. Sonar doesn't answere to the soldier. But it seems like the man doesn't really care about that. With an emotionless look and a short handsign, he tells you to leave the laboratory. You follow his order, happy to get out of that moldy room. And you feel even more relieved when the door closes behind you. It feels like every tension leaves your body. "Come with me," the soldier says. He doesn't touch you and you're more than happy about that. Your wrists won't be able to bare another touch. Bucky was right, when he told you, Dr. Sonar is non considerate. He punished you for the smallest things. Dropping a petri dish, for example. He is a complete jerk – a jerk with stupid neuroses. You're really happy that this unknown guy now leads you to the ... dayroom. Uh.

"Err ... do I really have to go to the day room?" you ask feeling like a child.

"Yes," the man says. "It's an order from Mr. Strucker. He wants you to spend some time around other people. You need to incorporate." Eventhough you really want to disagree right now, you keep your mouth shut. This guy is definitiley not the right one to argue with. He probably is just some random guy that passed Strucker's way, when Mr. Monocle decided to let you be around other people. So that's what you do – keeping your mouth shut and following the man through the hallways. And again, you ask yourself where the exit could be. By now you think that memorizing all the ways, is pretty stupid. This is useless. You need to know where the exit is and they'll never let you near the exit. So escaping will be more difficult than you wanted it to be. You can't help but sigh. This sucks. "Are you planning to do something?" the soldier asks and you immediately feel your blood freeze inside your veins. "At the day room you can do sports or watch TV. There sure are some good books as well."

Your heart slows down again. He doesn't know about your plans – of course. Relief fills you. "I don't know," you simply say. This guy almost let you die on a heart attack. You're having troubles keeping a straight face. 

"Well then, you better decide now. We're there." You both go around a corner and then follow a short hallway, which leads to an open door. You hear some strange noises leaving the day room. Heavy breathing. Different voices. Shouting. And after a few steps more, you're a part of it – well, a quiet part. You basically stop at the doorway along with the man, who brought you here – who suddenly waves at someone. You don't want to admit that you're relieved to see a familiar face, but you feel a little better as you follow the soldiers gesture and spot ... Bucky, who is standing in a boxing ring fighting against someone you don't know. "Winter soldier!" the soldier shouts. "She's your problem again." A short gaze from Bucky and the man turns around to leave you behind. _Great_ , you think feeling all helpless now. What are you supposed to do? Bucky is all catched up   in his fight. Will he even notice, if you leave?

"Probably," you whisper to yourself taking a few steps inside the room. Gladly you spot a row of chairs at the side of the boxing ring and walk right up to it. Not without noticing how everybody stares at you. They're whispering. You even hear someone whistle to you, but you decide to ignore their behavor and simply sit down on one of the chairs next to the boxing ring. At least you can watch someone getting beaten up. Something you'd love to do to Strucker. And while you watch Mr. No-talking a.k.a the winter soldier, a.k.a James Bucky Barnes getting all strategical, you let your eyes wander around the room every now and then, stopping at the TV. You'd love to see, if there's anything about you in the news, but a bunch of very intimidating people sits in front of the screen. Yes, you're confident. No, you're not tired of life. So you simply withdraw and delay it to another day. You just watch Bucky fight. _Bucky_. You wonder, if he had a wife back then, who called him like that. 

You stare, following the soldier's actions. _Kick. Punch. Punch. Kick. Punch. Kick. Kick. Punch. Knife. Another knife. Punch._ You can't imagine what he went through. And somehow you start to understand why he acts the way he acts. He protects himself with obedience. But you can't do that. You need to-

"Hey there!"

You're close to let out a scream, but keep yourself from doing it, by putting a hand over your mouth. A young man – about a few years older than you - sat himself next to you, without you noticing it. "Hi," you greet him back, after you're under control of your heartbeat again. You throw an unsure look at Bucky and – actually – catch him watching you. At least for a second, before he keeps on with his Punch-and- Kick procedur. Then you look back at the man, who is still looking at you. 

"Nice to meet you, my name is Charlie," he says holding out a hand. 

You accept his hand after a short second of hesetation. "I'm [Y/N]."

"Oh I know, who you are. You're beating all the records." His words make you pull a face. Means, you have no idea what he is talking about. Charlie smiles. "I mean, when it comes down to these little friends." He points at your electroshock bracelets. "Nasty bracelets, huh? I remember when I came here. I could bear it for two days, before they broke me. These stupid junk goods make you feel like a complete jerk. Really makes me wonder how you're dealing with it." He looks at you, questioning, eventhough he didn't ask you anything. You really think about an answere. Yeah, you hold the record. Great. But actually you're not doing good. You're horrible. Of course, you can't tell Charlie about that. You don't know him. He could be someone Strucker sent to spy on you. It kind of makes you sad. You really want someone to talk. You miss Laura. 

"I'm just ... dealing with it, I guess." You shrug your shoulders. 

You hear him sigh. "That's what I figured." He presents you a honest, friendly smile. "You're not doing good with these bracelets, do you?"

You can't help, but smile back. "No. I passed out today."

Now he's the one pulling a face. "Uh. That's ugly." He brushes a hand through his black hair. "You seem to be very important to Hydra. Strucker made a big speech, babbling all about how he would kill anyone, who would dare to harm you in any way. He said, you're going to be a big help for their next plans."

"I don't know. I don't really listen to his babbling," you say and abruptly turn your head into the direction of the fight, as you hear a loud, painful scream echoing through the room. The next thing you see is a man flying through the air, smashing against a wall. As you look at Bucky again, he already picks up his belongings, before he leaves the ring and walks right up to you. You immediately tense up. He looks ... kind of angry? _Hopefully it's just because of the fight,_ you think, when Bucky stops in front of you. He sends a long glare at Charlie, who isn't bothered at all. And you guess that's the reason why Mr. No-talking turns his attention to you now. 

"We leave," he says, suddenly pulling you up by your shoulder and pushing you forward. You can't do anything else, but give Charlie an apologetic smile. 

When you reach the exit of the day room, only one thought is playing on your mind. _That was ... strange._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again peopleoftheinternet!
> 
> Here is the next chapter of A Dying Light! I wanted to thank you all so much for the kudos and for two amazing comments and all the positive feedback! I am soooo happy! You have no idea how much I appreciate it :) Soo, I hope you all feel hugged! I hope you enjoy/enjoyed this chapter and I think the next chapter is following very soon ^-^


	3. Fever

It's in the middle of the night as you finally stop in front of your room – the room you share with Bucky. The soldier who escorted you, puts his hand on the little screen, still having his eyes on you. The usual flash of green light scans his skin and just a second later the familiar beep of the unlock-system opens the door. "Have a good night, Ma'am," he says nodding in a polite manner. You simply nod back, sliding through the little space between door and frame, before quickly closing the door. You really don't like this man. He's the creepiest soldier you've met so far in this hideout. And now you're more than happy that he's gone – and that you're back in your room. _8 damn days,_ is all you can think right now while you walk further into the room placing a gentle hand on your sweaty forehead. Dr. Sonar forces you to work on an almost twenty hour basis, starting at 7:00 in the morning and leaving you leached out in the middle of the night – he calls it _open end-line up._ You really, really want to kill him by now. The last eight days you worked more in that damn laboratory than you selpt in your bed. That is barbarous. Terrible.

That's how you feel right now. Terrible. You turn your head staring at the old-fashioned lamp that is still turned on. Then you look over to _his_ bed. The soldier's back is turned to you, he's sleeping on the side with his face towards the wall. This is the first time you see his sleeping figure, because the last eight days he was still awake when you came back from work. Indeed, you both actually talked – a little. It was as if he waited for you. But maybe you're just beeing foolish again. With a soundless sigh you walk to his side of the room approaching the desk with the lamp on it. It's so quiet in this room, every step you make occurs like an earthquake to you and you really don't want to wake Bucky up. You have no idea how he would react. As you reach the desk you lean over the table top grabbing for the on-off switch. You immediately stop in your actions the moment you throw a short, checking look at Bucky just to see that he's awake – and watching you. You swollow hard, feeling your scratchy, dry throat. "Sorry," you mumble tiredly. "did I wake you up?"

He sits up while watching you intensely. "You look horrible," the winter soldier says with no emotion in his voice. But still you swear you can see something different in his eyes – something new. You can't deny that something changed the past days, since you first visited the day room. He seems more _aware_ of you somehow. Just like now. He looks at you in a completely different way than he used to. And you can't help but feel safe whenever you're around him. At least, you feel safer. But still, you can't ignore the fact that what he just said is pretty rude. _You look horrible. Well thanks._

You snort, offended by his words. "Thank you, genuis. That's, indeed, what I wanted to hear after a near twenty hour shift with a neurotic, old doctor who really enjoys to electroshock me over and over again for the smallest of things." While you say that you hold up your wrists with the bracelets still on them. _Still beating all the records._ You take a few steps back to create some more space between you and the soldier. "But now that you're awake, you won't mind if I take a shower." That is not a question. You turn around quite bluntly before walking up to your bed to pick up some new clothes that you store underneath. You hate to admit that you really feel bad. As you get up you feel your view twisting for a short second. Again you let a hand glide over your -again- sweaty forehead. _Uh._ This not good. But you won't break down again. Without looking at the soldier at the other side of the room you wrap your arms around your clothes and stump into the bathroom closing the door behind you. Unfortunately, you can't lock it. 

"Oh God," you sigh while you let your clothes fall to the ground and place yourself in front of the sink with a small mirror above it. You look more than horrible. You look awful. Like someone wanted to make cheese out of you. Means, you look like a zombie, if not worse. "No problem," you whisper to yourself as you start to put off your clothes. It's now that you notice how clammy they are from all your sweating. Even better you finally got rid of them. The uniform Hydra gave to you is nothing but inexpedient. You really miss your pajamas. You shake off your thoughts and stand yourself underneath the shower. As you turn on the water a loud breath mixed with shock and relief escapes your lips. The water reaches your wrists letting you fizzle in pain when it rushes over the wounds caused by the electroshock brecelets. But soon you relax, feeling your muscels lose their tension. You look up to the ceiling thinking about home. About your mom. 

_I really want to go home,_ you think. This is the first time you really think about it all. What it means to be here. What it all means for your future. Will you ever be free again? Will someone get you out of here? Oh, you can't deny it. How should someone find you? Hydra is nothing but a shadow to most of the people. Something like a ghost story. Even you thought it was nothing more than a propaganda. How can you expect people to look for a ghost? This is probably how your life should turn out and you can't change that. Probably. You're shaking now, but you don't allow yourself to cry. You want to stay strong and hope for the very best. Crying won't help you after all. _There is a light that never goes out_. Another stupid quote you found on tumblr. But now you try to see it as an encouragement. Just for now. Because you feel like you need something to hold on, or you really will go crazy. When you think about how long Bucky bore it all your lungs feel like they're sqeezing tight. He had it worse.

As you feel yourself getting more and more dizzy, you decide to leave the shower. You turn off the water grabbing your towel that is placed on a hook next to it. Strange. You feel strange now that the water is gone and you leave the shower tub. You feel somehow light headed and a cold shiver runs down your back, before a displeasing wave of warmth reaches your face. All of this is so weird. You throw a last glare into the mirror - into your awful pale face – and then put on your fresh clothes. The uniform practically consists of a rather tight pair of pants, a black shirt and a dark grey jacket. At least, that's what they gave you. Right now you're more than thankful for these clothes. They're easy to put on. As you're fully dressed you pick up your old clothes and leave the bathroom without looking back. Right next to the door is a basket in which you place your clothes. You let out another sigh, as you straighten up suddenly feeling worse than before. You see Bucky standing at his desk, watching you. You let out a heavy breath. "Hmph."

You lean against the frame of the bathroom door, but soon push yourself back up as you see Bucky approaching you. You stumble a few steps forward, in attempt to go to your bed but the soldier grabs you by your arm forcing you to look at him. You open your mouth to say something but immediately stop at the feeling of his cold hand on your forehead. Instantly you lean into the cool, comforting feeling. "You surely have a bad fever," he says, before taking his hand down again to support you. 

You can't help but giggle about his sudden honesty – and maybe you laugh, because you feel funny in a way. It seems like the heat is eating away your brain cells. "Yeah well, thank you Dr. Who, I think I can handle myself. You know, in _my_ time people can actually survive a fever." You look at him through the veil of your feverish thoughts – just to see a confused face. _Oh God, did I just make a reference to his actual time?_ "I think I ... I don't feel so good," you whisper. This situation reminds you awkwardly of the one in the club almost two weeks ago. And you have no idea why, but another silly thought reaches your mud-like brain. "I bet you just mixed another knockout-drops cocktail for me, so I finally shut up and you get the silence you wanted so badly for so long."

"You talk way too much," he answeres to your silly words, while he starts guiding you to your bed. You can't do anything else, but watch him with weak eyes. _Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. He was such a good man and he doesn't even know._ "You should sleep now."

"Sleep is for the weak," you say as he lets you sit down on your bed. "And you shouldn't change the hot topic, Sir. Isn't it your job to watch out for me? Well, let me tell you something, you're not doing a good job at it. You should talk to me way more. I once read an article about a young girl, whose parents ignored her for two months because their precious dog died when she took a walk with him. And well, the girl ended up in the loony bin. Like, you know, where all the crazy people go who want to kill themselves. What if I end up there too?"

"I don't think so. Go to sleep now." His voice is demanding. And because you don't want a fight right now you listen to what he says. Half-decent. You lay back and watch how he looks down on you.

"You're intimidating." The words slip out of your mouth without thinking them through. And for a moment you think he'll probably be mad at you, but instead you see something like a smirk on his lips – or you imagine it because of the fever. But you swear you can see the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips. And then you hear him say something like: _"That's good"_. He turns around leaving 'your' side of the room. "Can you turn on some music?" you ask quietly and for a short moment you think about repeating your question, but withdraw as you hear some sounds coming from where the record player stands. Just a few minutes later you hear _Dream a little dream of me_ by Ozzie Nelson leave the speaker. You don't really wonder anymore. Bucky is from the 1940's and eventhough he can't remember, you think his subconscious still has certain preferences that adapt to the old Bucky – whoever the old Bucky was. You throw a little piece of the blanket over your upper body, before closing your eyes. "Thank you," you say slowely drifting off.

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you -  
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you - But in your dreams whatever they be  
Dream a little dream of me ...

                                                 

. . .

You wake up to the loud, annoying sound of the sirene, which is some kind of an alarm for every soldier. It heralds the beginning of everyone's work day. You instantly sit up feeling that your bones are much heavier than usual. A pounding pain eats its way through your head and with a snort you let a hand glide over your face. _This day is so not going to be well._ You don't want to move a lazy finger. Really. Every movement hurts like hell and your body still feels like it can't decide whether it's summer or winter. But most of the time you feel like you're on fire. You slept very well though. With another sigh you look through the room stopping at the empty bad of your roommate. While you swing your legs out of the bad you're just about to ask yourself where Bucky could probably be, when the bathroom door suddenly opens. _Oh._ That's all you think as you see the shirtless version of the winter soldier stepping out of the bathroom. You try hard not to stare feeling your cheeks growing hotter than they already are. His eyes fall on you. You swollow. "Uhm ... morning." You put on a weak smile.

Bucky watches you intensely – actually like he always does. "You're still having a fever," he says walking over to his bed where he puts on the shirt of his combat gear. While Bucky slips into the protection vest, he still looks at you as if he awaits an answere. But you just sit there and try to prepare yourself for the next step. Getting up. You listen to the sound of footsteps that come from outside the door and try to pick the right moment to stand up. "You talked in your sleep." These words make you look at him.

"Seriously?" you ask nervously and use the feeling of surprise inside you to get up. For a short moment the world around you shakes. You shiver. "D-did I say something ... weird?" You bite your lower lip. You're afraid. What if you said something about his past? You don't remember anything about a dream. But you fell asleep to music from the 40's. So what if that led to a dream about Bucky and you said something about him?

"I don't know. You just mumbled things." Something like an amused snort escapes his lips – as discreet as ever, of course.

But your eyes are practically hanging on this image of Bucky. Sometimes he can seem so normal, eventhough he's an assassin. So completely normal – so light hearted. He's fatal. You can't help but smile. "Are you making fun of me? Of a helpless, feverish, totaly exhausted woman who needs to go to work in any event?" Your last – actually meant funny – question changes his expression and all of a sudden Bucky returns to his usual assassin-self. Now he's the winter soldier again. Bucky is gone. You feel your smile vanish, your heart returns to the dark where it hides from all the cruelty of the last weeks. You wipe away some of the sweat on your forehead. "I didn't mean it," you say with a half hearted smirk. "I actually feel much better than I did hours ago ... and sorry, I know I said all these ... weird things. Guess, I let the fever take the best of me. But now I'm back to normal." 

Bucky loked away thoughtfuly. Now you really start to worry. It's almost as if he is constantly jumping between what seems to be Bucky and the cold hearted winter soldier. "Back to normal ..." he mumbles and after a short while it seems like he's snapped out of a thought. "I'll escort you to the laboratory now. Dr. Sonar is probably awaiting you."

"Yeah, because that man is an alien, that doesn't need any sleep at all," you say rolling your eyes in annoyance as you follow Mr. No-talking to the door and out to the hallway. He doesn't answer at all and you accept that and instead try hard to keep yourself from stumbeling over your tired feet. You feel a big lumb in your throat, your ears make nasty noises and your stomach feels like it's on a rollercoaster. Not to mention this damn heat. You feel like a darn heat pipe. "Freaking fever," you whisper to yourself and – again – glide a hand through your face. You're really happy you didn't look into the mirror, there's no way you want to see how miserable you look right now. A aspirin would be really good. Or anything else to numb your senses. _Or a big bowl of mom's self-made chicken soup._ You hold a hand over your grumping stomach. Too bad they're never eating breakfast here. 

"You should try to take it slow today," Bucky says all of a sudden. 

"And I can effort that ... by?" You lift your eyebrows in curiousity.

"By not getting electroshocked, beaten up or punished in any other way. Otherwise, you will probably pass out pretty easy. You better avoid trouble today."

"That could be problematic." You say biting your lower lip innocently and as you raise your head, you can see another rare smirk on James Buchanan Barnes' face. You bite your lip even harder. _This guy ..._

                                                    . . .

You throw your dinner tray onto the table, before you let yourself fall onto the chair. Charlie watches your show with amusement – well, until he sees your dead pale face. Now he looks like he really wants to call an ambulance. "[Y/N] you look horrible," he says with serious concern in his eyes. You just return a short spiteful smile before you roughly pick some food from your plate – as always undefinable. This is not your mom's supercool self-made chicken soup. This thing on your plate is trash and you honestly feel like throwing up right now. The only reason why you eat this stuff, is because you know that your body needs something to strengthen itself, eventhough you highly doubt that this 'food' is going to help you. "No seriously. Are you okay? You look like you're going to pass out any second and I'm not sure if I can carry you to your room without getting beaten up by your roommate."

At his words you look over his shoulder. Bucky is sitting on a table on the other side of the room, together with a few comrades. "Yeah, he would probably beat you up until there's nothing left of your face. But that's only because he doesn't like people touching his things. I thought he would kill me when I played around with his record player." You return to your plate and as soon as you picked something up - it looks like a piece of broccoli -, turn your attention back to Charlie. He looks a little shocked. "Uh ..." you make thinking about something to say. "but he's actually quite nice. I mean he's more the quiet one, so I don't actually have a problem with him. This morning he told me to take it easy. No electroshocks and stuff."

"And how did it turn out?" Charlie asks and you can already see it in his face – he knows the answere to his question. 

"Glorious." Your voice is filled with sarcasm. "I think if I go on like that, they'll burn my hands off. This is not education, this is humiliation."

"Yeah, they really have it in for you. I mean, how long are you here now? Over two weeks? I never saw someone wear these bracelets for this long." Charlie looks down on his hands but even with him turning his face away you can see the scepsis in his eyes. It somehow scares you. "You know, what if ..." He clears his throat. "what if they don't plan on taking them off? Maybe they think you're better to control with these things on. Constant control. They probably think, if they take them off, you'll get back to be all ... stubborn." _And they would be right,_ you think, again looking over to Bucky, who talks to a guy next to him. Whenever you look at him you feel like you _need_ to be stubborn. As if you owe it to him. After all that he's been through. Horrible. Charlie followed your gaze and now turns around to you again. "You know he's an assassin, right? He's the fist of Hydra. There's no way he can feel something. For anyone."

"I'm not so sure about that. What if they did the same to him, they're doing with everyone else? You know, education, electroshock. Or even worse. What if he had it much worse than we? I think he deserves a chance just like everybody else does. Maybe he was like you once. Just a normal guy," you explain not thinking about how suspicious all of that sounds. Maybe it's because of the fever, or simply because you're tired of keeping the secret of James Buchanan Barnes for yourself. But Charlie doesn't look all too convinced. Actually, he looks at you like you're a weirdo. And his eyes are full of worry – maybe even fear. "What is it, Charlie? You look at me as if I'm crazy and I can assure you, I'm really not."

The black-haired shakes his head. "No, no it's not like that. I know you're a smart girl and I can see it on your face that you figured something out. It's just ..." An honest expression takes over his face. "just be careful what you're getting yourself into, girl. This is not about the winter soldier. And believe me, it's not just you against Strucker. There are things in Hydra that are much bigger than Mr. Monocle. If you mess things up, I don't know if you would survive it."

You smile at him. "I don't even know, if I survive this darn fever."

"Yeah, yeah you look horrible." He gets up a little leaning himself over the table just to press a hand on your forehead. You instantly feel yourself getting red. Though, you must admit Charlie's hand on your forehead doesn't feel as good as Bucky's touch. "Man [Y/N], you're burning. You know, I really think your fever is coming from these damn bracelets. Maybe your wounds got infected." He points at the wounds around your wrists. Open wounds. Charlie sighs leaning back. "Hhm ... didn't you say, you uhm ... stole one of the devices out of the laboratory? You said it could help you getting rid of the bracelets."

"Yes," you start to fumble inside your pockets. "yes, I have it. I ..." You press your hands over every pocket you have, but the device is not there. It's gone. You're getting more hectical and for a short moment, as you watch out for Bucky, you can see his curious glance. You immediately stop in your action and instead shake your head at Charlie. "I lost it," you say in a whispere tone. "Shit."

"That's indeed bad, [Y/N]." Charlie looks over your shoulder, his chin points at something and as you turn around you see Jason – the biggest asshole in this hideout – holding the device in his hand. He holds it against the light as if he tries to figure out what exactly it is. And the moment you get up ... he pulls the trigger. The bracelets around your wrists seem to tighten up and less than a second later a wave of electricity runs through your arms, through your body, through your legs. But the most burning pain – lies on your wrists. At first you try to bear down the cry of pain that builds up inside you, but again your resolution doesn't last long and a piercing scream escapes your throat as you fall to your knees. "Fuck, [Y/N]!" you hear Charlie exclaim. You hear how he gets up from his place running to you like a crazy one. 

You lie on the floor by now, wondering why the shocks won't stop. Maybe the device was defect from the very beginning. Maybe that's the reason why it was burried between all that other trash. "Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!" you scream out as you feel Charlie's shadow above you. He can't touch you. If he does, he'll suffer from a shock too. _"What am I supposed to do? Shit. Shit. Shit."_ you hear him cursing and as you look up you find Bucky pushing Charlie to the side. 

"Jason has one of the electroshock devices!" you hear Charlie say and from there on everything goes incredibly fast. Bucky leaves you behind running up to Jason in an unbelievable speed. The only thing you can do is turn around and watch Bucky beating the hell out of Jason, which means he throws him through the whole dining room. As the brown-haired finally smashes the device underneath his foot you almost think it's over ... but the shocks don't stop. "It's not working!" Charlie yells and again you see Bucky approaching you – your vision already wavers. You hear your blood run much slower. Your heart aches awfully, forcing itself from beat to beat. _Badum Badum Badum Badum_. And then you feel someone touch you. A few cracking sounds. And then it stops. It just stops. Numbness.

You look into the face of Bucky. It's not the winter soldier. It's not an assassin. It's Bucky. "Hey. Stay awake." His voice is harsh. With a look around he lifts you from the ground. "You have to go ahead, let the medical quater know that we have an emergency. I follow." You guess he's talking to Charlie.

"Yes, of course," you hear Charlie say in a breathless tone. Fast footsteps follow, getting more and more distant. Shortly after that you start to move too. 

"You owe me something." You manage to throw a look at Bucky's tensed features. 

"Hm," you just mumble something, even you can't understand. Then you close your eyes. And you fall into a deep, comforting darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeellooo peopleoftheinternet!
> 
> It's me again (if you want it or not)! That was the third chapter of A Dying Light and I hope you enjoyed it! I thank you again for the kind words and the interest! I promise I'll keep doing my best <3 
> 
> Looots of Love for you!!


	4. Distress

You're sitting in the day room – staring at the empty boxing ring, in which Bucky used to fight idiots with death wishes. Well, Bucky is not here. The winter soldier was called out on a mission two weeks ago and even if you really wanted to know what that mission is all about – Bucky couldn't tell you. The last weeks before he left, Bucky behaved really strange. He was all quiet again, as if he locked himself up deep inside. And you were scared as hell – you still are. What if the winter soldier is after the good guys on his current mission? You know it's a bad thing to even think about it that way, but you really don't want the good guys to hurt him – or even worse, kill him. No way. You fiddle around with your fingers, now looking down on your free wrists. No bracelets - _but still holding the record._ It's been three months since the winter soldier brought you to this hideout. Two and a half months since you got rid of the bracelets. Two weeks since Bucky left for his mission. One week since you started your shifts at the medical quaters. It's not a big deal. This is something everyone must do from time to time. It's all about bandaging, cleaning wounds, give out doctor's stuff. Actually you like it more than working with Dr. Sonar.

Your eyes wander over to the TV, where Charlie is sitting. You both are the only ones hanging around in the day room right now. You and Charlie have the same shift, which means you have different break times than usual and in some way, it feels really good. It's quiet. There's nothing but the sound of the TV showing the news. _The news._ You bite your lower lip. The police is investigating now and so is S.H.I.E.L.D. They're looking for you. Probably everywhere. You don't want to think about how your mom feels right now. She's probably freaking out. And Laura – she must feel guilty, because she was the one who left you alone at the bar. You can't deny that this whole situation turns more and more into a big desaster. It's like you're getting continually dragged deeper into the ground. As if you're becoming a shadow of this hideout. It feels like you lose the awareness about how things work up there. On the surface. It's like you lose yourself with every minute. With every breath. 

"Hey girl," Charlie greets you in a soft tone, as he sits himself next to you. "are you okay?" Eversince the incident with Jason and the electroshock device, Charlie permanently asks you, if you're okay. And your answere is always the same. You nod letting out an approving humm. Your eyes keep staring at the boxing ring. You can't deny that the feeling of comfort is gone since Bucky left. Your room feels empty. Eventhough Bucky allowed you to use the recod player, you didn't touched it once. The only thing you did the past nights, was reading. And thinking about if he'll be okay. All because he behaved so strange before he left. "You really miss him, huh? I mean, evenhough he's the guy who kidnapped you, you're still attracted to him." Charlie throws a serious glare at you and for a moment you really feel guilty for feeling this way. But then you remember _why_ you feel this way. 

You shrug your shoulders. "He was there when something happened to me. I know that he's the one who kidnapped me, but he simply followed his orders. And he helped me more than once. Remember when I told you that I passed out?" you ask in a keen manner, just to watch Charlie shake his head. "Well, he catched me. When I had fever he cared about me and did you see how he cared when I suffered from the electroshocks? He _cared_ , Charlie. He visisted me when I was laying on the medical quaters for _over_ two weeks. Whatever you think he is, he isn't. He's not heartless."

"Okay," Charlie says in a lower tone. It makes you feel as if you're the crazy one noone puts faith in. "I won't say anything against you and Mr. Winter-soldier. I told you already, I just want you to be careful. You're in a very precarious situation and I don't want you to get hurt. I would almost say, you're just back from the dead. I saw you, girl, you looked horrible even after they let you out of the medial quaters." You don't say anything after that. You know that Charlie is right. This situation is the worst. And it could easily misled you, because you can't think straight with all the things and worries that are on your mind. And the fear. It's the fear that snaps you out of your sleep every damn night. You hear Charlie chuckle in silence. "You know, they call it _stockholm syndrome_ when you start to express sympathy towards your kidnapper " You pull a face at Charlie's words and land a playful punch on his shoulder. He laughs. "Okay, okay. Now let's go back to the medical quaters. I don't want to anger Dr. Greene."

"Okay," you agree, before biting your lip. You don't want to admit that Charlie just reminded you of something. Something that sends a shiver down your spine, whenever you think about it. It's been two weeks since Bucky left, but his words still echoe in your ears ...

_"Well well, see who's paying me the honor of his attendence. It's the winter soldier a.k.a Mr. No-talking," you smile as you see Bucky step through the curtain, which is thought to be the door of your room. You put your book aside and watch how the winter soldier walks up to your bed sitting himself next to you. He looks somehow tired and you can tell by the bandages around his knuckels that he was at the day room, probably kicking someones ass. Hopefully it was Jason. That bastard. You wish you could kick his ass yourself. But right now you're a little worried about the soldier next to you. He looks not too good. His eyes seem distant, he's kind of pale and his muscels are tensed. "You know they call it`Lima syndrome` when an abductor starts to sympathize with his victim," you say with a mischievous smirk on your lips and watch how Bucky looks up to you with a stone-like expression. But you can clearly see the spark of amusement in his eyes._

_"You're not my victim," he says seriously.`Well, if I remember right you knocked me out with a glass of special champaign,` you think, but don't dare to say it aloud. He seriously seems bothered to you. Whatever it is, he's not on terms with it right now. "How are you doing?" he asks after a long silence, in which you awkwardly played with the pages of your book. His question actually makes you smile again. Maybe he's right when he tells you that you're not his victim. Maybe you once were his victim, only for that evening in the club. Now he's more like your watchdog. God, what are you even thinking? You're still in this wreckage of a prison. _

_"Oh I'm grand, thank you. I'm happy I didn't die from a heart attack after Jason decided to barbecue my wrists and fry my heart." You can't stop yourself from giggling at your own sentence, but soon stop as you see the unaffected expression on Bucky's face. You clear your throat and again start to fiddle on the edges of your book. "Sorry," you mumble. "I'm drugged up to the eyeballs. They gave me like ... everything. Something for the pain on my wrists, something for my now 80 year old, damaged heart. Something for my fever and something for my stomach. Oh and something for my headache." You shake your head in skepticism while biting your lip. "I'm still not sure if all that stuff will get along well. And I really want to get out of here by now. I've been in the medical quaters for over a week."_

_"Probably because of your now 80 year old, damaged heart," he says._

_"Are you making fun of me again?" you ask with a pout, but the only thing you get is a short amused eye contact. You feel a warmth spread around your heart. "Why are you here anyways? I'm more than good on my own and you don't have to watch me all over again. Aaand I have this wonderful book that I really enjoy." You show up the cover of the book you're reading.`The big book of diseases`. Bucky just grimaces something that looks like a disgusted face. You again, start to laugh. "Oh come on, don't be such a baby, soldier!"_

_"You talk too much," he says._

_"Wow, this line is getting old. I remember when I got fried by Jason and was near to a heart attack, you told me I should tell you something, anything. You didn't complain. And now you want me to shut up again?" You give him a glare, which he's returning like a pro. But then his expression changes all of a sudden. Now Bucky looks thoughtful again._

_"Actually I came here to tell you that I'll be away for a while, which means you'll be on your own." You immediately furrow your brows in confusion, but Bucky doesn't mind it. "I'm going on a mission very soon and I don't know when I'll return." A slow nod is the answere you give him after his words finally seeped through. Actually you're surprised he even tells you that. But you guess that's because he's actually responsible for you and doesn't want you to do anything stupid while he's gone. As always – that could be problematic. "So promise me you won't do anything stupid, while I'm gone."`Wow.` You didn't know he knows you that good. But that's probably because you did more stupid things the past weeks than you did in your entire life. `Ha. Well, that happens when you kidnapp a just graduated scientist. Not my bad.`_

_You look at him innocently. "What does that exactly mean?"_

_Bucky sighs. "That means, don't let yourself get hurt again, okay [Y/N]?"_

_Your eyes widen. "Did you just call me by my name?"_

                                                        . . .

You yawn while you watch the clock on the wall. _Tick.Tack.Tick.Tack.Tick.Tack._ You're sitting on this table for hours now - doing nothing. All the soldiers that are laying on the medical quater right now are already aided, you checked the quantity of supplies and upholstered the free beds on the medical station. There's nothing to do anymore. Even Dr. Greene left like an hour ago telling you she would be in the dinner room if anything happens. "Charlie, why am I still here?" you ask with a frustrated sigh as the black-haired steps into the room. "I mean, here's nothing to do for us. Can't we just go back to the day room and wait there for ... whatever?" You never were one of the impatient type, but the silence and the waiting makes you crazy. It lets you drift into thoughts that weight heavy on your heart. And you simply don't want to think anymore. Unfortunately thoughts can't be turned off like that. 

"Do you want to get killed?" Charlie asks and you immediately shake your head with a confused expression. "The answere is no." With a chuckle he sits down at the chair in front of you, instantly starting to fumble around with a pencil. "I kind of get why your roommate constantly had to pull you out of trouble. You're really like devil-may-care." You just pull a face at his words. You're not careless. No, you've always been native and quiet, but when it came down to your freedom, decisions, to the things that really mattered – you would never let someone order you around. Noone could tell you what's right for you. What you can do, and what you can't. And if someone told you that you can't do something, you would do everything to prove them wrong. But as you look at Charlie you start to understand that this here – this hideout and the life that comes with it – is not an option for you. And maybe that's the reason why beeing a little _careless_ might be good for you. 

This actually brings up a question. _Did Charlie give up?_ Did he just decided one day to give up the fight against Hydra? Because you can't imagine doing that. Yes, you don't exactly have a plan right now. But you will definitely leave this place behind sooner or later – probably sooner. "Charlie, don't you want to escape this place?" The question slips out of your mouth before you thought it through. You know this is rude to ask. Yes, you know him for three months now, but that doesn't give you the right to ask him such a question. This is none of your business. "Uhm because, you're not one of the bad guys, right? You've been captured by Hydra just like I was. So why would you want to stay here?"

"Maybe because life is easy down here." He shrugs his shoulders and his response leaves you without speaking. _... life is easy down here._ Maybe that's the reason why he always tells you to be careful when it comes to risks. Perhaps that's the reason why he doesn't like it when you talk about running away and how you believe the winter soldier is not what he seems. Maybe Charlie's scared you'll actually leave him behind. And you would. If he doesn't want to come with you, you'll need to leave him behind. There's a life outside waiting for you. Your mom. Your best friend Laura. A job – even if you're not sure if you really want to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore. But maybe there's even a guy who's crazy enough to marry you one day. That are the reasons. _You need to get out of here._ With Charlie, or without him. You look at the young man in front of you and the moment he opens his mouth to say something – seemingly serious – the door slams open.

"Soldiers returned from their current mission. We need metical care. Right. Now!" The loud voice of the soldier makes you jump up immediately, just like Charlie. "Dr. Greene is already on the spot, just like some other assistants. You both, follow me!" The man turns right around rushing out of the little room again and you can't do anything else but follow him out of the medical quaters and into the maze of long, dark hallways. 

"Where are they?" you hear Charlie ask breathlessly.

"They are at the storage quaters. Dr. Greene said there will be not enough room at the medical quaters. Not for every soldier and most of the medical supplies are down there. It's most convenient." You can't help but feel a big lumb building inside your stomach. What if something bad happened to Bucky? For a short moment you think about asking the soldier about him, but immediately withdraw again. Why would you ask about him? It's too suspicious. You clench your hands into fists, trying to push away the negative thoughts. You need to stay sane right now. It sounds like there are a lot of wounded soldiers and if you don't keep your calmness, you'll make mistakes. Mistakes are fatal in this situation. "You'll need to prepare bandages, splints and pain killers. You better not lose time, this sure will be a long night." You almost run down the hallways, rushing around corners until you reach the large round hall – the storage quaters. 

The first thing that reaches you is – the smell. Blood and Sweat. Then you hear the noises. Moaning and heavy breathing. You look through the crowd of injured soldiers, but can't find Bucky between them. _Where is he?_ You follow the soldier into the storage, where you find Dr. Greene rushing around like a crazy one. There are assistants everywhere running from soldier to soldier. It's a horrible image. Dr. Greene instantly runs up to you as her eyes meet yours. "[Y/N], I need you somewhere else. Right now." She didn't even reach you as she points across the storage room at a little hallway. "Follow the corridor until the end. You'll see a large cell. There's a patient who needs backup until I get the time to help him." She must see the insecurity in your eyes. You're scared as hell. "Don't worry, he's not injured ... just traumatized. All you need to do is talk." You nod and Dr. Greene turns to the soldier next to you. "You'll escort her. After she's inside the cell you'll lock it up again and return, I need every helping hand I can get."

"Yes, Ma'am." He turns his attention to you. "Follow me." You give Charlie a short look, who just nods at you approvingly. You swollow hard, before following the soldier across the storage hall. "You know who awaits you inside the cell, right?" the soldier asks seriously and -again- you just nod. _It's Bucky._ But Dr. Greene said he's traumatized, not injured. Does that mean, it's not Bucky who awaits you there? _He's the winter soldier again,_ your mind whispers scared. You bite your lip again, scared of what would happen next. _Psychological trauma is a type of damage to the psyche that occurs as a result of a severely distressing event._ You repeat that line in your head over and over again. You know what happened to Bucky. What Hydra did to him all these years – over and over again. They brainwashed him, they erased every memory of the man he was before. And then they put him into ice for almost seventy years. What if it all came back now?

You gulp as your eyes spot the iron rods of the cell. Suddenly your feet feel like they're made of stone and you really have to force yourself to go on. _He will recognize you. He will. He won't hurt you. It's Bucky after all. He won't hurt you. He won't. Eventhough he's the winter soldier. He won't hurt you._ And then you can finally see him. You make your last steps closing the gap between you and the cell. He's sitting there on a strange looking stool – shirtless -, staring at nothing in particular. Bucky really looks bad. He's pale. Some bruises cover his upper body and his metal arm looks damaged at some spots. You can't help but startle as you hear an approving beep that opens the door to the cell. You instantly approach the door gaining a strickt glance from the soldier. "Don't you dare do anything stupid. Try to stay calm and whatever you do – don't piss him off." You just nod entering the cell. The door behind you closes just seconds later. "Dr. Greene will come as soon as she can. Mr. Strucker is on his way together with Mr. Pierce."

"Alexander Pierce?" you ask shocked. "The guy who declined the Nobel Peace Prize?" The soldier doesn't answer your question and instead points over you shoulder, before he turns around leaving you alone in the lion's den. _Alexander Pierce is a member of Hydra._ You feel your throat tighten up. For a short moment you allow yourself to close your eyes. You take deep breath, open your eyes again and turn around. You almost flinch as you see Bucky looking at you with empty eyes. _It's still Bucky,_ you think slowely taking a few steps towards him. "H-hey it's me, it's [Y/N]," you start, feeling like you're talking with a little kid. "They told me you ... need some help. Are you okay?" You notice how his eyes follow your every movement. He doesn't say anything, but you can clearly see how he swollows hard. You take another step. "Don't you want to tell me what happened?" you ask softly. 

He clears his throat lightly, but it still seems like the words refuse to come out. "He- this man on the bridge-" his voice breaks again, leaving him just staring again. His mouth is slightly opened as his eyes meet yours again, except that this time it seems like he really _is_ seeing you. "You're ... wearing a ... nurse uniform," he says. You forrow your brows. Bucky is a complete mess. It seems that – just a second later – he loses grip of the here and now again and instead watches things that aren't there. It's as if an image is playing in front of his eyes – an image only he can see. _... the man on the bridge. That seems important,_ you think to yourself. "This man on the bridge ..." he repeats absent minded. 

You take another step, now standing pretty close to him. "Good. L-let us concentrate on one thing at a time, okay? Tell me about that man on the bridge." Your words get him straight away. Dr. Greene is wrong. Bucky is not traumatized. He's just completely confused. You can nearly see how two worlds collide. How Bucky revolts against the winter soldier. You take another deep breath. This is hard to watch, but you know what you have to do. You have to keep him in the here and now. "Tell me."

"I knew him." His voice is not more than a whisper. _Okay, that's something to work with._

"Okay," you say. "Does _he_ know you?"

"He called me ... Bucky." Every motion falls out of your face as you hear him say his name. That's impossible. How could someone know him, when Bucky was put on ice for nearly seventy years? All the people who could know him are dead. You try hard to keep a straight face, eventhough you would love to tell him everything right now. He probably will not be able to take it. Bucky is too confused, too much of a mess at the moment. But you really have a hard time thinking of something to say. That's when Bucky suddenly tenses and a knowing expression washes over his face – his eyes looking directly at you. "You called me Bucky," he says with a raspy voice and you just start to shake yur head slightly. You never called him Bucky. You always made sure you would call him by nicknames – such as Mr. No-talking. "When you had this bad fever ... you would talk in your sleep and ... you called for Bucky."

You take a few steps back as Bucky gets up from the stool. So it was not just a bad feeling you had, when Bucky first told you that you talked in your sleep, you _really did_ say something about his past. "Listen," you say holding up your hands in defeat as the winter soldier starts to approach you. "The man on the bridge, whoever it was ... he's right. Your name is Bucky. You're James Buchanan Barnes, but you forgot everything because Hydra wiped your memories."

"You lie," he says coming closer. 

"No Bucky, I dont." By taking a look behind you, you notice that there isn't much more room for you to back away. "Buck-"

"Don't call me that way!" he yells and his voice echoes through the large cell, before he grabs you by your shoulders and roughly presses you against a wall. He shakes his head in a desperate manner. "Don't call me that way. You're a liar. You lie. I'm not-" He stops his words as he looks into your eyes. You're frightened – you never were this afraid in your entire life. Not even when Bucky kidnapped you. Not even when they electroshocked you. The brown-haired stumbles a few steps back, his eyes wander through the room. Lost. He looks like a lost boy. "The procedure ... has already ... Sergeant Barnes." The moment he turns around you hear a bunch of footsteps approach the cell. You can't do anything else, but watch as a crowd of security guys enters the cell in a loud, rough act, immediately pointing guns at the winter soldier.

"Sit down!" screams one of the security guys and Bucky doesn't revolt. With a glare in your direction he sits down on the stool again.

_Bucky._ You whisper his name soundless, but he just shakes his head vaguely. In the next moment Wolfgang Strucker and Alexander Pierce step through the door of the cell, followed by Dr. Greene and Charlie. Last immediately makes his way through the room - up to you. The black-haired grabs you by your shoulder, instantly forcing you with him. "Come on, we have to go," he says in a hissed tone. With your eyes still focused on Bucky, you can see how the winter soldier gets up, as he sees you leave with Charlie."[Y/N], come on." It's now that you notice how slow your steps proceed.

"Sit down!" the same security guy exclaims again. 

"But ..." you whisper while Charlie drags you further across the cell until you lose sight of Bucky. 

"Damn [Y/N], do you want to get killed!?" Charlie asks, roughly forcing you with him. "Are you freaking crazy, or something!?" He really is angry at you and you can't stand the fact, that he starts to order you around just like Hydra does. 

In a fitful move you free yourself from Charlie's grasp. "But what – what will they do to him?" You ask horrified. 

"[Y/N], they'll wipe him again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there again! [Wow, I'm really clingy, huh?]
> 
> Aaaanyway peopleoftheinternet, I'm serving you the next chapter of A Dying Light! This one was actually kind of hard to write, but I enjoyed it nontheless! Again, I thank you so much for the support. The FEEELS! The FEEELS! D': Oh ... uhm I dedicate this chapter to bbbarnes. I love your comments, thank you so much! Oh and I love your Sebastian Stand: Prompts. They're amazing! I didn't have the time to leave a comment yet, but I will! 
> 
> Okay, so I think that's all I want to say for today. I hope you all have a wonderful day or night, or whatever! Enjoy life and stuff ... okay that's weird. I'm going to stop writing now ... yeah ... bye! Oh ... Loooots of Love of course!


	5. Detonation

You stare at the ceiling of your room listening to the gentle tunes of a piano composition, which leaves the speaker of the record player. But except for the music it's quiet. Your arms are tightly wrapped around your pillow while your fingers continue to pinch the soft surface. You can feel how your teeth blemish your lower lip from all the biting. They feel sore and you can swear you taste blood. But you don't stop. You don't care. _I just left him in the cell. With all those bad people. With the only thing that can wipe his memories. I just left him._ Your head feels like it's screaming – ready to explode. Ready to let out all the anger and confusement. The winter soldier kidnapped you – you're not even supposed to think of him as an ally – as a friend. As someone you express sympathy for. But. What. **God!** You take a sharp breath as if you just burned youself, before you press the pillow into your face letting out a desperate, heartrending cry. This is not what you should do. You shouldn't be here. You should be at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s housings. And instead of that you're fighting against a confused heart – a confused, fucked up, totally ripped heart. You're fighting against feelings you know are against all norms.

You feel the tears on your cheeks, eventhough you leave the pillow on your face. You stare into the darkness, while the tears just run on. _Alone._ That's your thought. You are alone. Even Charlie left you. It's been two days since Bucky came back from his assignment – since they wiped him – and Charlie just vanished. You haven't seen anyone of them – neither Charlie nor Bucky. And since that freaking day Hydra would let you sit around in this damn room. You did nothing the last two days. Nothing. Nothing, except crying, screaming into your pillow and trying to stay sane. This. This is the absolute definition of torture. No electroshocks. No punch. No slap. No physical damage. No, nothing is worse than the here and now you're sitting in. Waiting. Slowely losing your sanity. `I was never insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched. ` You remember that line very well. Edgar Ellen Poe wrote it. And this stupid idiot is right. The only reason why you feel this miserable now, is because Bucky touched a certain part of your heart – a part you don't even want to know. 

"Bucky," you whisper taking the pillow down your face. Your eyes blankly stare at the ceiling again. "please forgive me. I'm so sorry." You turn to the side trying hard to find a position to calm down your aching heart. But this is nothing you can fix by finding the right position. You know that. But still you remain restless. "I'm so so sorry." You hide your face in the blanket for a short second, before looking up again. Nothing that you do will make up for what you did to Bucky. You just left him behind. You let Hydra hurt him. But there was nothing you could've done, right? No, no there's nothing you could've done. But still, you can't help but feel this dragging pain inside your chest. You gulp. A sad smirk creeps its way onto your lips. Yeah, maybe you're getting crazy now. And you have every right to. You just have. All the time you tried to keep your light shining, to stay yourself, to not lose hope. But now you feel like all of this was completely made up by your mind to keep you from the truth – you lost hope the minute you woke up in this hideout. 

_There is a light that never goes out._ What a stupid encouragement. How could you even think this would help you in any way? You slightly shake your head in sorrow, before you slowely sit up looking through the room you share with Bucky for over three months now. Three months and you couldn't kick yourself in the ass and tell him that his stupid name is not winter soldier but instead James Buchanan Barnes? That he's not from this time but instead was born in 1917? That he was a soldier who fought _against_ Hydra and not _for_ Hydra? You're so stupid. Maybe if you would've told him, some things would've turned out different. So in the end, you actually could've done something to prevent Hydra from wiping him again. At least, you could've tried. But you didn't and that is the worst part of it. And maybe that is the part that hurts you he most. Perhaps _that_ is the dragging pain inside your heart. The fact that you didn't try to help him. 

You get up while brushing a hasty hand through your already messed up hair. The feelings of guilt weights heavy on your heart. You bite your lower lip again furrowing your brows at the sharp pain your bite causes. "Make it go away," you whisper closing your eyes, as if you're waiting for the relief to fill you up. "Please God, make it go away." But nothing happens. Your heavy heart stays the same heavy heart. You let out another heavy breath and by now you can't stand the sound anymore. You can't stand the sound of your stupid voice. You can't stand the smell inside here. You can't stand the way this room looks. You can't stand this stupid record player. You can't stand this room anymore. You take a deep breath, swollowing the hard thoughts. "Okay okay. That's enough, calm down [Y/N]. You need to calm down. Clam down. Everything is going to be okay. It's going to be okay again." With slow steps you walk up to the record player taking the needle down the record just to turn it around. You immediately step back to your bed as you hear another composition leave the speaker. 

You crawl back into your bed leaning your back against the wall before you close your eyes to give them some rest. Another nasty headache starts its way you your temples and you can't do anything else but sigh. Sometimes you wish a headache would be your biggest problem, or exams, or boys, or what you should wear on a date. Yeah, you sigh again, letting your thoughts drift. To your mom. To Laura. To your apartment. For a long moment you allow yourself to imagine that all of this – all that surrounds you right now – never happened. You imagine all the good things – only the good things. The most good thoughts are about your mother. She's always been your light, eventhough she used to say that you are the light of her life. You always thought it's cheesy. Now you want nothing more but her voice speaking to you – telling that you're her light. You want her to tell you that she'll protect you. _There is nothing you need to fear._ Oh, how you wish it would be true. How you wish . . .

There is an awful long period of silence, even after the music stopped. And then – all of a sudden – the door slides open and two soldiers step into the room, half-carrying a dead pale Bucky to his bed. You really have to pull all your nerves together to prevent yourself from running up to him. And your face probably looks awful from all the tears, so you decide to prevent possible eye contact."We'll see how long the memory-wipe lasts this time. I give him three months," one of the soldiers says in an amused manner causing you to bite your lower lip. The other soldier just laughs approving. You look at both of them through the corner of your eyes wishing them all the bad things in life, as they approach the door again, ready to leave. They don't even spend a glare on you. It's as if you're not even here. You're more than glad Dr. Sonar didn't find out that you know about Bucky's past. Otherwise they probably would've seperated you from him. A short twitch runs through your body as the door falls into the lock. Silence.

You gulp watching Bucky from the distant for a while. He doesn't move. He just lies there. But you can clearly see his open eyes. He's not asleep. You crawl onto the edge of your bed before slowely getting up. With the curiousity of a child you take a few steps forward trying to catch a better glimpse of his expression. Nothing. There is not a single motion on his face and his eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. Empty. It seems as if he's a completely empty page. A book with no words in it, entirely hollowed. "Bucky," you whisper not regretting that you call him by his name. No matter what it costs now, you'll remind him of his real self until he can't stand the sound of his own name anymore. And if it takes a liftetime, you don't care. You owe it to Bucky, after you let Hydra hurt him like that. "Bucky," you say again, now closing the gap between the both of you. Your steps stop at his side, inches before the bed's edge. He doesn't react and the dispair in your heart gives you the courage to kneel beside him on the mattress. Still, he doesn't react. "It's me Bucky, it's [Y/N]." 

You notice how his pupils slightly move to look at you, but he still isn't saying anything. Bucky is so pale, his eyes are glassy and his forehead is covered in sweat. Dark rings shine forth under his eyes letting him seem incredibly tired. "I'm right back," you say to him trying hard to keep the volume of your voice at a minimum. You're afraid that harsh sounds could scare him off, or worse. So you get up carefully and make your way through the bedroom into the bathroom where you take the last fresh towel. You take a short look into the mirror just to see puffy eyes in a red face. Instantly you turn away returning into the bedroom, back to Bucky. "I brought you a towel. I- uhm I'm just going to wipe away the sweat, okay? Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid." You try to smile away the insecurity, but it's hard for you since Bucky still doesn't say anything. With a heavy breath you sit down beside him again, before you let the towel sink down on his forehead. 

_God, he's so pale._ "Bucky," you say clearing your throat as you notice how raspy your voice is. "please say something. I need you to talk to me." He doesn't answer and slowely the feeling of sadness vanishes and a wave of ... anger reaches you. You lean over the brown-haired cupping his cheek with your hand. "Bucky, look at me!" you say determined. "Tell me that you remember me. You **have** to talk to me. Please. Don't tell me you're gone, because I won't believe it."

"I don't know you," he says. His voice is broken, weak. It makes him seem like ten times older and you can't help but stop in your actions. Your hand moves away from his face and then you just sit there. _I don't know you. I don't know you._ This line spins around in your head over and over again. Haunts you. Scares you. "I don't know who you are," Bucky says again. Still he's not moving. He just looks up the ceiling like something very important is written on its surface. It's like he's not aware of his surroundings – not completely, not entirely. He can hear your voice, he knows what you're saying, but it seems like he's hiding deep inside. And in some way, you think, it's your fault. Why didn't you stop them from doing this to him? Why didn't you _try_? You didn't try to help him. But now – now you want to bring him back, even if he doesn't want to come back. You're not going to leave him like this. 

You shake your head. "You know me. I'm [Y/N], we both share this room for over three months now. You brought me here, because Hydra told you to do so. I was your assignment and you had to take care of me. You know me, Bucky, you know me."

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he asks in a low tone. 

Again you cup his face – this time with both hands. And as you look into his eyes, you put all your honesty, all your determination inside it. You feel his jaws tense under your hands and for a moment you're scared he'll push you away – if not worse – but it looks like Bucky's movements are considerable limited. _He's so weak, he can't even move properly._ You swollow hard. "You're Bucky. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, you were born in 1917. You fought in world war II against the terror organization Hydra, but ... they captured you. They made you an assassin. Bucky, they wiped your memory." You look deep into his blue eyes. "They put you on ice for nearly seventy years." You hold his eyes locked with yours. Trying to see any recognition in his blue oceans. It is as if he's looking right through you. And then he starts to shakes his head. Slowely _He doesn't recognize me,_ You think to yourself.

"You're lying." He says and finally – for the first time – he really seems to look at you. "I. Don't. Know. You." He turns his head to the side looking at the wall. "How can I trust someone I never saw before? You could be my enemy." _Enemy._ His words send a huge shiver down your spine. He really can't remember you. They broke him again and for the first time in your life there's no answer. You don't have the answer. Being a scientist doesn't help you. None of your knowledge can fix this up. "I don't feel anything. If I really know you, then why can't I remember you? I should at least feel something, don't I?" Buckys eyes focus on you again. "It's not there. I don't know you." 

You nod, seriously hurt by his words. "I know you want to do the right thing. Pushing me away, hiding yourself somewhere inside and hope that noone will ever scratch the wall again. And if I ask you now, if you could think about it all, than you would probably say no. But I'll do everything for you to remember. Everything."

An exhausted snort escapes his lips. "You seem like a smart woman. How comes you never tried to escape?"

"I don't know," you answere. And that is the truth. You have no idea why. Maybe because after- at least – a few weeks you spent in this hideout you had the hope that Bucky would come with you. It was always a dumb thought, you know that now. Or maybe because you wanted to help him so desperately. Because eversince you found his file at Dr. Sonar's laboratory, you felt the need to show Bucky who he really is. You shrug your shoulders, biting your sore lip. "There's someone I want to help. Maybe a little too desperately. But I don't know if I can leave without him. A few months ago I would've left no matter what but now ... things changed. You know, he's intimidating, but I never hated him. Never." He doesn't say anything. And you just sit there staring at the blanket. For a short moment you allow yourself to close your eyes. "I'm sorry, Bucky."

"Don't call-" You immediately get up from Bucky's bed and bring some space between the both of you, as you hear fast footsteps approach the door. The familiar, approving beep of the acess-system resounds, right before the door flies open and two soldiers enter the room. You look at them in confusion, feeling the familiar hint of fear rise inside you as they both make their way to your position. "Miss [L/N], Dr. Sonar wishes you immediately in his laboratory. On behalf of Mr. Strucker we'll escort you right now." You open your mouth letting out a protesting hum as they grab you by your shoulders and instanly drag you along – out of the room. But - of course - you are already used to get dragged along, to be beaten up, to get punished. So you just follow their orders. You take one step after another. And as you reach the hallway you take a short look back – and your eyes meet his. The door closes. _Please let him think about it._

. . .

_Oh come on, screw you._ Unfortunately, that was not just a thought of yours. Your head smashes to the side as Dr. Sonar gives you another one of his burning slaps in the face. You slowely let your head sink down looking at the empty page in front of you once again. "I told you, I can't remember. The past three months you let me solve so many formulas I don't know which one you mean. Seriously I don't see the forest for the trees here." You can't believe you're in this questioning for already over three hours now. All because of a few lost pages with formulas you solved a few weeks ago. Oh, you know exactly which one he means, but they don't seem important to you, they are not realistic. These were formulas you could solve – yes – but they could never be realized into something material. But for some reason these formulas are important to Dr. Sonar – and that is what perplexes you. There's no way you will give him these formulas ever again. You look at the old man with a smile. "Only badly arranged scientist lose their records." Instantly another slap covers your cheek in a hot, prickling pain.

"You think this is funny. You think you solved just some regular, random formulas." Now he's the one who looks amused and you can't help, but feel the bad feeling rise inside you again. "Well, let me tell you, Miss [L/N], you did a good job becoming a monster. You learned from the best, you learned from me. And I was thrilled to see that you ate right out of my hand, from the very beginning and I didn't even need to convince you." Dr. Sonar lets out an impish snort. "Oh but don't worry, girl. I know what it feels like, the love for science is big and your heart is curious. Mr. Strucker knew how to get you. Leaving you to think that you have the control over your actions was the majesty of his plan. Leaving you to think you're a hostage who's just intended to be kept from S.H.I.E.L.D. Yeah, that all was the sticking point. You poor little girl, you had no idea what was going on." You feel the anger fill your heart. The anger and the hate for this man. You can't believe he's making it seem like you've been controlled all this time – without even knowing it. This is impossible. You don't believe a word he says.

Eventhough his words left a bitter feeling, you decide to remain unimpressed. "If that's the case, I guess I can be happy you lost this fucking formulas, because you'll never- You will never see them again. I will never look at one of your damn formulas and if it means my death, I don't care." A devilish giggle escapes your lips. "Seems like I didn't learn from the best, because if you really, really realized one of this formulas into something material, than you wouldn't be here asking me to rewrite them. Good scientists doesn't take their results from formulas, they take them from experience. And it seems like you have none of that. No experience, no clues, no results. You had to kidnap a college girl to finally carry it off. I hope you see how much of an embarrassment you are." This time it's not a slap. It's not a fist or another kind of physical pain that makes you lose the thread. It the fact that Dr. Sonar stays absolutely cool. 

"Oh I have a result, don't you worry about that, Miss [L/N]. Actually I'm quite happy to hear that you _in fact_ remember the formulas I'm talking about, whereat, just a few minutes ago, you actually said you don't remember which ones I mean." You bite your lower lip at his words. _Shit._ You talked too much. Dr. Sonar is thrilled by your reaction. "A mind like yours could never forget anything from this importance. And I must admit, I was impressed when I saw your results. I never thought that mixing the DNA of a human with the DNA of certain animals would be so easy to accomplish. Not outside our imagination. But your work opened so many new potential. You made things a lot easier. Your help was a breakthrough." The doctor goes in a circle around you staring as if you're a rare object. "Miss [L/N], did you ever heard of the super soldier serum that was invented in the time of world war II?" 

You furrow your brows in confusion. Actually you remember a day you stayed longer at college just because prof. Willis wanted your opinion about some cases that lay far back in the past. He showed you old files from the time of world war II and talked a lot about secret projects in between the military. A doctor namend Abraham Erskine was supposed to be a big wheel back then. But you never really believed these things. There was no proof for all this. You turn your attention to Dr. Sonar again. "I heard rumors. But rumors intend to be more of a lie than a fact."

"Tell me, do you know Captain America?" Dr. Sonar askes with serious curiousity in his eyes. You – again – return his gaze with confusion, while you slowely nod. "Then why do you think there's no proof of the existence of an actual super soldier? Do you think his actions are results of a lot of gym and the right diet? What do you think, he consists of? A man that grew from a boy full of weaknesses into a perfect fighter."

"They manipulated his metabolism," you say. "probably parts of his DNA." You look down on the paper again. This is something completely different than just mixing animal cells with human cells. Because changing a DNA without using other cells from other living creatures is known to be impossible. You can exclude mutation. There's no way Captain America's cells mutated, simply because of his appearance. In case, he would look a lot different. But, you don't understand what Captain America has to do with all this stuff here. "Why do you care about this?" you ask - already having a slight clue of what's going on. And you fear the answere to your question. You fear the impact of the work you did the last couple of months. _...you did a good job becoming a monster._ This sentence makes your heart race all of a sudden. It has so much more meaning right now. If you're right in your assumption, then it means you really _are_ a monster. `Bad people who do bad things to good people are the real monsters.`

"Let's just say, solving the formulas opened a whole other world. It made things possible." Dr. Sonar's expression is euphoric. He's fire and flame for the hint you gave him. This is something _you_ started. "This is something so different from all the serums before. It sure needs some work, but with you it will be not much of a work. **If** you start to obey, otherwise it will be a hell of work for you."

"You made a serum? You mixed animal cells with human cells and then ... tested it on someone? This. Is. Insane. You don't know what you're dealing with. This is not just mixing cells, it's dangerous. We don't know what consequences may follow!"

"Now don't be so rebellious, Miss [L/N]. Believe me, the testobject was more than agreeable. He was thrilled to help the woman he fell in love with to fulfill her dreams. The dream of doing something big, to accomplish something other scientist would look at in jealousy. This young man was happy to be the emblem of our work." You shake your head at the proud expression of the doctor. Because you know who the testobject is. You didn't see him for two days now. He just disappeared. He was not in the day room. He was not at the dining room during the breaks. He was nowhere to be found. He was just ... gone. _Charlie just disappeared._ And now you know why. Because he agreed to do something you never wanted for anyone. How could they mislead him like that? Making him think that this is what you wanted? Or did he really wanted it for himself? Why would anyone want this?

"It's Charlie, isn't it?" you ask, without really wanting an answere. "The moment he first talked to me you had him on your radar, right? You used him to realize your plans?"

" _Your_ plans too," Dr. Sonar says.

"No!" you immediately shout out feeling the weight of the world lasting on your shoulders. "I never wanted this!" Tears start to build up inside your eyes. They really created a monster. You don't know how the serum infected Charlie's nature, but it surely changed something. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. Otherwise Dr. Sonar wouldn't want you to rewrite the formulas. The doctor wants more of that serum and for a reason – you don't know what reason it is – he can't effort that without you. _How could you do this to me, Charlie? How could I do that to you?_ "This is not my dream. I never wanted to be a part of this bullshit." you whisper. For the first time in your life you feel burning hate for science. Burning hate for your knowledge. For the first time in your life ... you really hate yourself. 

"Why so sentimental all of a sudden, Miss [L/N]? Perhabs you'll find your happiness again when you see the creation?" The doctor turns around to the backdoor of the laboratory. You follow his look with fear. "Bring him in, guys!" For a long moment there's nothing but silence. But then you start to hear steps coming from the outside of the door, before it slides open and the two soldiers, who escorted you, step inside – with a new version of Charlie. Your face fills with awe the moment you see your former friend. _Friend._ Because he really became your friend. But this is not Charlie. His once brown eyes are shining in a cold blue color – there is no warmth in them. His facial expressions seem tensed. He clearly became firmer. And there is something about his movements that remind you of a predator. _This is not Charlie._

His eyes find yours. They widen in shock. "[Y/N] what happened to your face?" You don't answere. Because you don't even recognize his voice anymore. Even his voice changed. This is crazy. You shake your head in growing disbelief, but Charlie doesn't get the chance to see it, because he suddenly turns around to face Dr. Sonar, who turned his back on you. "Did you hurt her!?" Charlie yells in rage. Rage. Not anger. Not huff. No – it's rage you hear in his voice. It's burning hate. 

"I had to make sure she cooperates," Dr. Sonar says unimpressed. "Don't you start to dig inside other people's business!" 

"How dare you!"And suddenly everything happens really fast. Before the soldiers even get the chance to grab Charlie, he already smashes them into a cupboard full of chemicals, which immediately mix themselves into a toxic cocktail that burns their skin in an awful, slow way. Screams of pain are heard and are soon joined by the gurgling of Dr. Sonar, who is suffocating on his own blood. Charlie's arm is sticking inside Dr. Sonar's body and you can clearly see how your former friend enjoys the sight of death. He doesn't stop staring at the doctor, eventhough he already stopped breathing. You slowely get up from the chair, intending not to make a sound, but mess up as you run against a little table. In less then a second Charlie turned his eyes on you and roughly lets the dead body fall onto the floor. He takes a few steps towards you, but you instantly back away. "[Y/N], it's me. It's Charlie. I'm here to help you."

You shake your head. "You're not Charlie," you whisper while tears start to run down your cheeks. You can't take it. This cruelty. First you lost Bucky. And now you lost Charlie too. "You're not him. Charlie would never do something like this." You look down at Dr. Sonar's dead body, before taking a peek at the still moaning soldiers. 

"But [Y/N], this is what you wanted, right? You wanted a soldier, who helps you out of here. And since the winter soldier doesn't remember who he really is, I thought that I would help you." He takes another few steps and you bump against the edge of a table. There's no more space for you to back away. It seems like Charlie notices your fear and stops in his action. "I just want to help you. He can't help you. The winter soldier is a moron, who hides himself behind wiped memories without looking at them. [Y/N], you deserve so much more than that. So much better. Together we'll create more of my kind, and we will lead the world into peace. I'll be at your command, you'll never have to mourn. Not about the winter soldier. We'll create our own peace."

You can't believe what he says. This is so megalomaniac. And you can't do anything else but just shake your head over and over again. "Help? Together? More of your kind? _Peace?_ You know, in lapse of history we heard this words more than enough. Mostly coming from megalomaniac douchebags. How can you even think I would create more of your kind? Don't you see what they turned you into?" You take a deep, choked breath trying hard to stop the tears. You've never felt this lonely before. This scared. This crashed. "I can't believe I lost you to this. To a serum. Maybe you were right when you said that the winter soldier can't help me, nor ... feel anything for me. But do you want to know what's the difference between you and him?" You look deep into Charlie's cold blue eyes. "He didn't have a choice, they forced him to be like he is. And he still decided to care about me. At least, in some way. You're just selfish. You did this for yourself and not for me. Because I never wanted this ... no way."

"Does that mean you cast me out? For him?" Again he approaches you and now you step to the side. 

"You lost me as a friend the moment you decided to take that damn serum. The moment you decided to become a monster." Another long breath leaves your lips. "You're not Charlie. You're not my friend anymore."

Charlie's face turnes into a deceitful expression. "When I first saw you, I thought you were smart. Pretty and smart and full of hope. You're a light in this dark place, [Y/N]. But now I don't see any sign of that girl. But I'll fight to get her back – even if I have to force her out. And believe me, if I can't have you, neither can he." You swollow hard as Charlie makes his way to you. Your feet feel frozen to the ground. You can't move anymore, it feels like you're numb. "You'll see a whole new kind of education, [Y/N]." At his words the entrance door suddenly breaks open and before you can see who entered the room a big, loud detonation seems to rip the whole laboratory apart. You're tossed from your feet by the blast that comes with the explosion and instantly feel a burning pain spreading over your right side. You let out a deep moan feeling pieces of glass and wood prick inside your skin, before it ... ends. In a split second it's completely silent – until there are sudden footsteps. 

Just a few seconds later you feel how someone releases you from the weight of a wreckage that lies on your back. This person immediately pulls you up and causes you to moan as you feel the pain on your side. And just now you notice ... you can't hear properly. But therefor you can still see. Him. You feel your heart skip a beat, then another. It's Bucky. He's standing right in front of you. In his combat gear. A mask is hiding half of his face. But as he notice your confused expression, he takes it off. "... look ...my lips ... follow ...get out he-" He gestures at his lips than points at the door – or where the door used to be – and suddenly drags you along. _Does that mean he's going to flee with me?_ You turn around looking at the completely destroyed laboratory. You can catch a last glimpse of Charlie's unconscious body, before you enter the hallway and immediately turn right.

"Does that mean you remember?" you say to Bucky, without hearing yourself – hoping you said exactly what you wanted to say. 

He looks back – right into your eyes and points at his lips again to get your attention. His lips are forming a word you immediately recognize. "Later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dear peopleoftheinternet!
> 
> Again, I decided to upload another (hopefully) wonderful chapter! I must admit I was a bit ill when I wrote this ... so there could be some mistakes! My apologies! And ... uhm I hope you enjoy this chapter. I can't thank you enough for the nice words :) I really appreciate it. Oh God, that sounds soooo cliché ... Haha sorry :'D
> 
> Anyyyway! Have a wonderful day/night! (In my time zone it's early evening :B)  
> Muuuuch love!!!


	6. Trust

Your lips are dry, your throat is raspy and yet you're sweating as if your body is a spring itself. The pain coming from your rips is almost gone and is now replaced by a rising numbness. An uncomfortable numbness. You're cowering in this corner for at least fifteen minutes, but it feels like you already spent a lifetime here. The breaths that are leaving your mouth are long, heavy and shaky. You take a look at the other corner of the room – and Bucky returns your gaze with a serious nod. _We're almost out of here._ There are only four soldiers between you and your freedom. You startle as you hear the sound of the alarm system – again. It happened all very fast after the explosion at Dr. Sonar's laboratory. In no time Strucker realized that Bucky and you're planing to escape and immediately sent out a massive amount of soldiers to catch you again. But up until now they couldn't catch you and you're already in sight of the exit. _Already._ Well, it must've been hours since Bucky picked you up. _It's time to get out of here,_ you think looking at Bucky again. 

The brown-haired takes a short look around before sneeking up to you. "There are four soldiers left. I can take them out on my own but I need you to lure them down here. Can you do this?" Without really thinking twice you just give him a short nod and peek around the corner. Down the hallway you see one of the soldiers patrol, another one waits to the left and the other two are walking all around this area. It'll probably be enough to attract the attention of one of them, the other soldiers will follow anyway. You nod again – this time for yourself. To put pride on your shoulders. This is one last step. The last step towards your freedom. After over three months. _Okay, let's do this._ You get up from your position slowely walking past Bucky. For a short moment you stop at the doorframe peeking down the hallways to each of your sides. No soldiers. _Seems like we have to deal with the big one._ The big one. That's the one, who's patroling at the end of the hallway. Great. 

You decide to get it over with quickly and instead of doing it the slow and sneeky way, you start to run. Fast. The further you run the more you have to force yourself to keep going. The pain on your side returns all of a sudden, like a wreckingball that smashes into a shabby building. You stumble over your own feet but quickly manage to keep the balance again. The wound on your side must be pretty bad - at least, it feels like it. You sure lost some blood. That's probably the main reason for your occasionally blurred vision. _Another reason to get the hell out of here,_ you say to yourself as you aprubtly stop at the end of the hallway. The big guy is standing a few meters down the left hallway. You know you can't just say 'Hi' and run away. He would never follow you – it's too suspiscious. No, instead you take another step forward leaving your hiding spot behind the corner with loud steps. And it actually works. The soldier looks at you with wide eyes, instantly taking a step towards you. You pull a face. "Shit." _Run! Run! Run!_ The message reaches your brain with a slight delay, but you still manage to escape the soldier's grasp. 

"Guys I found the girl!" the soldier screams while you run for your life. This man is freaking fast! You're really having a hard time running away from him and hearing the voices of the other three soldiers doesn't make it any easier. _'Where is she?'_ you hear one of them yell through the hallways. "She's running up the middle floor, I'm right behind her!" _Oh God Bucky, do something already!_ You take a look back regretting it immediately as you see how close the soldier is. It causes you to increase your speed, whereat you start to gasp for air in pain. A warm, wet feeling runs from your rips down to your pelvic bone. Yeah, your wound seems to be pretty bad. With an exhausted snort you finally reach the cross over area you and Bucky used to hide in. You stupidly oversee the jutting doorstep and stumble again. Unfortunately this time you can't save yourself from falling and crash blankly onto the floor. "Oh, poor girl. See who just kissed the dust," the soldier says amused as he approaches you in a playful manner. "Now, my sweetpea-"

That's when a bunch of awful piercing screams linger through the hallways letting you startle in an instant. They're not far from here. "What the hell is going on?" the soldier yells and the sound of his voice resonates through the hallways. "You better answere me, guys!" But noone answeres. It's completely silent and for a moment you're scared Bucky might leaves you behind. _He would never do that._ You crawl forward before you turn around to sit on your backside. The soldier doesn't even react to you anymore, he's too busy looking around in panic. He's scared. He knows he has not the slightest of a chance against Bucky. And as you hear the sound of fast footsteps you watch the soldier, who firmly holds on to his gun. He looks at you, suddenly a hint of rage reaches his eyes. He points the gun at you. "I'll kill her, if you dare to come any closer. I swear ..." you try to keep a straight face as you see Bucky's shadow approach the soldier from behind. "she won't-" A single strike and the soldier kisses the dust. Done.

You let out a heavy breath. "Seriously. You kept me waiting on purpose, didn't you?"

"Come on, we need to go," he says ignoring your question. But at least he helps you back onto your feet. "The entrance is right there, at the end of the hallway." _Great,_ you think in relief and follow Bucky's fast steps through the corridor. You never thought it would be that easy to escape. Well, you thought it would be harder. But with Bucky it seemed so incredibly easy. He was the one who brought you here and now he's the one who leads you out of this nightmare. You know why it all is so simple. It's because Bucky is the winter soldier. Because – just like Charlie now – Bucky is no normal human. Hydra experimented on him. He probably could've run away years ago. But he never did, because he thought the same way Charlie did. _"Maybe because life is easy down here,"_ you remember Charlie's words with a hint of sadness in your heart. You still can't believe he turned into this ... monster. You still can't believe that this is your fault. "Hey," you hear Bucky say in a harsh tone. You look up to see his strickt expression. "no looking back, okay?"

"Yeah, no looking back," you agree as you both reach the end of the hallway. You go a little further down the hallway to your right until you reach a large doubledoor. The exit. You stop short. "Bucky there's a damn solid lock on this door, how do you intend to-" You don't get the chance to finish your sentence. Bucky quickly sticks a strange looking device to the lock before he pushes you to the ground covering your body with his own as another explosion breaks loose – with the difference that this one is not as loud as the first one. This time you gladly keep your sense of hearing. After the dust slowely vanishes you find yourself close to Bucky, his eyes are locked with yours. "A warning would be nice next time," you whisper and for a short while he just keeps his eyes on your face. 

"Sorry," he suddenly says before getting up. "I thought you would like a little action." You just shake your head at his words and let him pull you up. "Now come on, we better hurry up and leave. We need to find a shelter."

You prepare to say something when you suddenly hear a bunch of shots. In a splitsecond the air is cut by – at least – a hundred of bullets. "You little bastards, come back!" The only thing you feel now is Bucky's hand firmly grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the hideout. You immediately stand in the middle of a path surrounded by trees. Trees. Trees. Trees. You're in the middle of nowhere. You're in the middle of the woods. "Holy fuck," you whisper while Bucky still drags you along – you are running again. You both approach one of the many cars that are standing at the side of the large path. "I hope you didn't forget the way when they wiped you."

"Get in the car, [Y/N]. I don't have any more weapons to fight with. We need to get away. Now." His voice is serious. You see the sweat on his forehead. You see his exhaustion. _Bucky can't fight anymore. He's done._

You rush to the passenger's side of the range rover and quickly get inside. As you sit down on the seat you feel a short dragging pain coming from the wound on your side. You automatically place a hand at the aching point just to find a big part of your shirt to be drenched in blood. You bite your lower lip again. "[Y/N]?" Bucky asks while sitting down next to you. He shows you his blood covered hand. "Are you injured?" His question soon turns out to be needless as his eyes wander down to the blood drenched part of your shirt. Now that you're back in the light you can clearly see the wet spot on the shirt. In the darkness of the hideout you could barely see it yourself, because your top is black. But now you see it. The blood is glimmering in the light of the day. Bucky probably came in touch with your wound when he protected you from the explosion. "[Y/N], don't you dare pass out again."

You shake your head. "I'm fine, Dr. Who. Stop being all sentimental!" you exclaim sarcastically. "It happened during the explosion at Dr. Sonar's labor. B-but I'm fine. It's not that bad, j-just let's go." Right on cue, because shots are heard again. You peek out of the back window to see a bunch of soldiers leave the hideout. With guns – and really pissed off expressions. "Let us leave." Bucky nods starting the motor. He steps on the gas pedal and with a loud, annoying sound of the wheels you leave the hideout behind. The pain that came with it. The hate. The frustration. The fear. But there still is a certain insecurity. It's telling you that you're not safe yet. You let your head sink against the headrest looking into the rear view mirror. "Do you think they'll follow us right away?"

"Probably not. They'll start a counteroffensive against us, which means we're not safe yet. I don't think we'll ever be, if we don't kill them all." You look at Bucky in disbelief. You actually hope he's making a joke. But if you read the signs on his face the right way, it means he's utterly serious about his words. But maybe you're just halluzinating again because you feel – as so often lately – really bad. The pain returns in full bloom. You swollow before letting out a noisily breath. Bucky watches you from the corner of his eye. "You should really apply pressure to your wound, [Y/N]. You have to stop the blood flow."

"I-I know," you say closing your eyes as you softly place your palm on top of the wound before you start to apply pressure. You let out a loud moan instantly taking your hand from the wound again. "God, this hurts." You press your head even more into the headrest in attempt to handle the pain. "This was a damn stupid idea."

"It's necessary," Bucky says.

"I'll survive this little scratch without poking my insistence, don't worry about me. There is something else we need to talk about ..." Bucky doesn't answere, he just gives you a little glare while raising a curious eyebrow. "First of all, I really want to know how you find out about Charlie being the new kind of monster. You wouldn't have come for me, if you didn't know about him in the first place. Second, I want to know why you felt the need to blow the laboratory instead of saving me the safer way. Ever heard about close combat? And the last and absolutely most important, I want to know if you really remember. Or are you just on a moral-trip, where you thought you could save the damsel in distress?" You – again – see one of his infamous smirks. Okay, this is probably enough proof for you that this is the Bucky who kidnapped you three months ago. Well, he's not the exact same guy. He changed quite a bit. But in how far does he remember?

"I heard two guards talk about Charlie and the experiments Dr. Sonar made him go through. Something about animal DNA mixed with the DNA of a human. Creepy, if you ask me." He pulls a disgusted face, but soon returns to his usual stone-like expression. "And to your second question; yes I know what close combat is, but the bomb was not just to knock the crazy out, it was supposed to destroy Dr. Sonar's work and maybe prevent other testobjects. At least, until we dealt with him. Well, I couldn't know that Charlie would kill him before me." Okay, that makes a lot of sense to you. You look at Bucky – waiting. _Come on, there's one question left,_ you think impatiently. Yes, you will be greatful to Bucky no matter if he remembered his past or he just did it because of sudden moral-mood-swings. But you still want to know, if he remembers or not. There is a long silence before Bucky suddenly speaks up again. "Yes, I remember. I fell asleep after they took you to the laboratory. I had nightmares for the first time since ... eternity, and on top of that they turned out to be my past. Surely not all of my past, but I remember more than I did the last time they wiped me. And I guess ... in some way it's thanks to you."

You feel your cheeks grow hot as he sends a short glance at you. God, you feel like a school girl having a crush on the bad boy. Well, this comparison fits perfectly. While you're busy being this innocent scientist-girl, he's the bad ass assassin with the mysterious past. Damn, girls love cryptical things. And you feel like you're actually falling for this cliché. Darn. You return his look with an innocent smile. "You're welcome, Bucky." You stop short. "Wait, is it okay for you, if I call you like that? Or do you want me to call you James? Or Buchanan? Or Mr. Barnes?" A wide grin places on your face. There actually is a good memory you captured in that hideout. "Or do you want me to call you Mr. No-talking again? I mean, I don't care."

"You're unbelievable," he snorts in an amused manner. Yeah, this Bucky definitely is different. More open. More lively. And in some way ... charming. "Bucky is fine to me, eventhough I'm having a hard time getting used to it." Bucky pauses for a moment, but you instantly notice that there's something else he wants to tell you. "Uhm ... would you tell me a little bit more about me once we found a shelter? You said, you found my file."

You blink perplexed. "Yes. Uh ... yeah sure, I can do that." You can't resist but bite your lower lip again as you see his smirk appearing on his lips. Something about it makes you feel weird. Weird in a good way. 

But suddenly he throws a precarious look at you. You see his jaws tense. "[Y/N], stop biting your lip already."

. . .

"Was it really necessary to break into the store? I kind of feel bad about it. What if someone saw us?" You nervously look across the streets. It's late evening and only a few people are still awake walking around in the city. You still can't believe that you're back. Back home. Almost. Bucky and you reached the city two hours ago after a three hour drive. You abandoned the range rover four blocks ago in case there's a tracking device hidden somewhere in the car. You didn't want to take the risk. Well, and after you both arrived here the first thing you did ... you broke into a store. You stole money and clothes. God, you've never stolen something before. Okay, except from the device you grabbed from Dr. Sonar's laboratory. But that's different. "I really don't like stealing," you murmur. "Only jerks steal."

"Then see yourself as a one-night-jerk. We needed new clothes. You because of your ... wound and me ... uhm I don't know, because a man in a black gear wearing a mask is never suspiscious, right?" Bucky says with a shrug and a mischievous smile on his lips. _Sarcastic bastard,_ is all you can think. "Man, you're as stiff as a poker."

Your jaw drops open. "Wow. I really miss Mr. No-talking. I thought you lived under a rock when God decided to give out humor. But hell no, seems like I'm wrong. Indeed, you can be a very big pain in the ass." You shake your head while lifting your hands in defeat. "Sorry, mighty Winter Soldier. I thought you were the one who's _as stiff as a poker_ and now you accuse me as the stick." Bucky doesn't answere and you soon giggle at your own words realizing what kind of nonsense you're saying right now. But you're tired. And you're injured. Yes, you bandaged your wound provisorily – but actually that's the problem about it. You didn't get the chance to cleanse it nor stich it or something. And now it feels like your upper body is on fire. Burning. Piercing. Eating. You. Alive. Pain. You let out a heavy breath – and another one and another one. Seems like the fire reached your lungs. "Uhm Bucky, can't we rest for tonight? I don't think that I can go any further." You stop while holding a hand above your side. The bandage under your sweatshirt is already wet. Any longer and the blood will seep through the cloth. 

Bucky stops a few meters ahead. His eyes analyze you from head to toe and back. "Yeah, I think we go for a motel tonight." With his head he points further down the street. "Come on." Bucky followes your very motion as you let out a frustrated sigh and walk on until you're standing right next to him. This will be a long night. Really, hostage's life sucks. 

Almost two hours later you both stop in front of a small – really, really small – motel. The streets here are dark and angst inducing. Most of the buildings look shady and kind of rotten. Yeah, this place is the ugly side of the city. And you never thought you would find yourself in the middle of it. You give Bucky a overzealous smile trying to hide your insecurity. He just shakes his head with a bugged out sigh. "It's not that bad, [Y/N]. And it's just for one night, maybe two." Now that he looks at you - with these eyes that are begging for understanding - you feel ashamed. You mumble a short apology and follow the soldier to the entrance of the motel. _How can you be so sassy right now? Not the right time to play the spoilt brat,_ you think while giving yourself a mental kick in the ass. You need to be thankful. Bucky saved you from Hydra. He's the only reason why you're still alive. _Oh God._ You didn't even think about it. Charlie would've killed you. It's thanks to Bucky that you're still here. And you didn't even thank him. _Spoilt brat._

Bucky opens the door and you both step inside the small lobby. A young, weary-looking guy sits behind a counter staring at his phone. _Looks like someone found the job of his dreams!_ You stop at the front of the counter as the young guy finally looks up. Now you can see the dark circles under his eyes and the suspiscious red skin tone. Pothead. You can't help but sigh. "We need a room," you say annoyed after a long silence in which this little guy did nothing but stare at every part of your body – except your face. There's no way you will show any kindness right now. Not with this perverted teenager around. 

Bucky lays his hand down on the counter – loudly. "Yeah, yeah of couse!" He startles before turning around to the cupboard with the room keys. "What kind of room do you have in mind? Uhm ... double room or twin room?"

"Twin room," you say. 

"O-okay," the guy says while searching for the right key. Left. Right. Up. Down. One shelf, then another shelf and another one. After a few minutes he turns around with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry but it seems like all our twin rooms are taken. We have a few double rooms left though." You immediately look over to Bucky, who looks right back with an unspoken question in his eyes. Hell. You never shared the bed with a man. Not in a gesture of friendship and especially not in a ... _sexual_ way. Okay, this is different. There's no ... tension between the two of you. And Bucky would never touch you in a _weird_ way. At least, he's from 1917. The time of gentlemen. This is necessary. It's just convenient. That's all. _Yeah._ You give Bucky a small nod and he instantly turns his attention back to the young man. 

"We take a double room." The man behind the counter nods, before he turns around just to grap a random key. 

"It's room 21." He smiles at you in a really awkward way making you feel like a heatpipe. Not because you're bashful – no – this guy makes you feel disgusted. You feel like you're the victim of his ugly teenage fantasies. Uh. You hastily fumble in your pockets and pull out the money you stole from the store, before throwing it onto the counter. Then you grab the key. "Thank you, Miss." You just nod at his words and then leave the lobby with fast steps. Three words. Out. Of. Here. You feel Bucky's presence right behind you as you walk over the parking lot . Your eyes already watch out for your room. 21. Huh. You'll share the bed with Bucky. Okay, not in **that** way. But it's still a little ... strange. You gulp, telling yourself the four words over and over again. _There is no tension. There is no tension. There is no tension._

"Well, here we are," you declare while you both stop in front of a wooden door. Bucky says nothing. He just looks at you. "So, you're not going to talk to me again?" you say with a cheeky grin while you unlock the door with a shaky hand. A strong, dusty smell immediately climbs up your nose as you push the door open. The room is dark, but you already know what awaits you tonight. Rosty pipelines, creaky beds and evil-smelling bedclothes. You sigh taking a few stes inside the room before you turn on the lights. "Yeah, that's what I expected," you laugh softly while throwing the room key onto the table next to you. You turn around to face Bucky ... "I hope you have a wonderful night, Mr. Barnes. Welcome to motel hell!" ... but his eyes focus on something else. You look down on you just to see blood dripping from your side over your new trousers. Oh. A sudden feeling of illness washes over you, slowely creeping into your head before your knees start to give in. You breath in. You breath out. You breathe in again. You feel Bucky's strong arms wrapping around your waist. 

"You know why that happens now, right?" he asks in a dictatorial manner. And in your weakness you're still strong enough to roll your eyes in annoyance. "Because you didn't apply pressure." _Or maybe, because you forced me to go on and on and on and on._ "If we didn't go on and on and on, they would've catched us, [Y/N]." Wow. Seems like you weren't just thinking again. You mumble something undefinable while Bucky lifts you up. Your head immediately bumps against his chest and relief fills your body as the winter soldier places you down onto the double bed. You're hardly lying on the mattess as the brown-haired suddenly opens the zip of your sweatshirt. His hand glides down to the seam of your top as you grab his wrist in attempt to stop him. His eyes meet yours and for a long while you both do nothing but look at each other. Bucky is the first to speak again. "[Y/N], I need to take a look at your wound." You still hold on to his wrist not sure what to do. But then he suddenly says this two words. Two words that make your heart skip a beat. "Trust me."

"Okay," you whisper releasing his hand again. You still can't keep yourself from following his every movement. You watch how he lifts your top and slowely releases the thin texture from your wound. Yo bite your lip to keep yourself from letting out a sharp breath. The shirt is slightly stiking onto your wound. Not really a pleasant feeling. At the end you find yourself moaning in pain. "God Bucky, are you done now?" you hiss.

"You should take off your shirt," he says without turning a hair. 

"What?" you burst out immediately.

"I just want to check on you properly, [Y/N]. I thought you trust me." 

"Oh well, sorry that I have some trust issues after someone decided to kidnap me, torture me, lock me up and use me as a calculator," you exclaim sarcastically. You actually want to proceed in your flush of angry words, but stop as you notice Bucky's intense gaze. It's not just surprise that lies inside his eyes - it's guilt too. Because he knows. Everything that happened to you so far, happened because he brought you to Hydra. You clear your throat. "Sorry. I'm being the drama-queen again. Of course I trust you. You're the only one I trust right now. The only one." You give him a weak smile before sitting up. Ever so slowely you glide out of your sweatshirt and after that free yourself from your top. So now you're sitting here. In your bra and your trousers. _Oh man._ You feel your cheeks growing hot. This is so embarassing but somehow ... exciting? Oh God, what are you even thinking? 

"Can you get up without passing out immediately?" Bucky asks with a mischievous smile. Again. That. Smile. 

You grumble. "Lay down, get up, do this, do that. You're really dominant, do you know that?" You imitate his low, dark voice while you get up again - without really thinking about the impact of your words. Dominant. This word can be known for more than just one thing and eventhough you used it for something innocent, you can't help but give yourself another mental kick in the ass as you realize what you just said. The air around you seems to grow even hotter than before. And your heart skips a few beats the moment Bucky takes a step forward and closes the little gap that seperated you. Now you can feel his upper body slightly touching yours. "Uhm ..." You really want to say something. Something smart. Or something badass. But your throat is dry and yor thoughts are nothing but a blank page. 

You hear him chuckle. "Well, see who's out of words. I never thought you can be speechless." You don't say anything. He's such an asshole. Since he started to remember it seems like teasing is his number-one business. He's such a ... macho? You're not brave enough to face Bucky right now and so you continue staring down at his chest. God, what are you? A teenager? You bite your lower lip feeling the slight pain that comes with the rawness. Suddenly you feel gentle fingers placing under your chin. Bucky forces you to look up and in that moment you remember a few certain words. _[Y/N], stop biting your lip already._ "Stop biting your lip," Bucky says and his voice sounds demanding. You follow his order. _Yeah ... dominant._ Your eyes still lie on the features of his face. And Bucky is still looking at you with his fingers holding your chin. You really must fight the urge to bite your lip again. "I shouldn't do it." 

His whispered words make you feel nervous. "Y-you shouldn't do ... what?" you ask stuttering. But he doesn't answere – making you feel even weirder. Your heart races. The sound of your blood rushes through your ears. This heat. This damn heat. Huh. "Bucky-" You didn't even notice how close he was. You didn't notice how close his lips were to you. And you didn't notice how he closed the gap. But now you feel it. You feel absolutely everything. His soft, warm lips gently brushing over yours. The passion growing with every second. His metal arm slowely warpping around your waist. The way his other hand glides through your messy hair gently pulling your head back. Yeah, you feel everything – except the world around you. Well, that is ... until he breaks the kiss and immediately takes a few steps back. You breath goes heavy and you can't help but blink in irritation. "B-bucky?" 

He shakes his head. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't do this." Bucky glides a hand over his face. "I think ... I think you should take a shower to clean your wound. I'll look for an aid-kid." 

You're still completely confused. "Uhm ... okay," you say slowely walking towards the bathroom. This is strange. This is completely messed up. This is wrong? Is it wrong? _"I shouldn't do this."_ Does that mean it's wrong? Is it forbidden? You quickly close the door behind you as you reach the bathroom. Then let out a heavy breath. _God._ You never thought you would recite a stupid cliché lyrics, but ... if that kiss was wrong ... then you never want to be right again. "Hell no." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, my dear peopleoftheinternet!
> 
> Again I decided to bring you a new chapter and I very much hope you'll like it! I had a looooot of fun writing this one. I don't know why but this one was so easy for me to write. My fingers flew over the keyboard! xD Aaaand I thank you all sooooooooo much for the amazing support! It makes me so happy whenever I read one of you comments and the lovely words. You're too good to me! So thank you! :D <3
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the new chapter! Looooots of love <3 <3 <3


End file.
